


In Case of Emergency, Save Your Own Soul Before Assisting Others

by goodoldfashioned



Category: RedLetterMedia RPF
Genre: Alien Mythology/Religion, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Decisions, Dark Magic, Deal with a Devil, Desperation, Dubious Morality, Evil Plans, Fireplaces, Going to Hell, Guardian Angels, Guilt, Happy Ending, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Magical Bond, Mike cries a lot, Mild Gore, Non-Graphic Violence, Redemption, Regret, Soul Selling, Soulmates, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 75,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22060366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodoldfashioned/pseuds/goodoldfashioned
Summary: Mike makes a deal with the devil to get Jay to want him, later has some regrets.Can a surly guardian angel named Rich help Mike steal his soul back from the Prince of Darkness before Jay’s is gone for good?
Relationships: Mike/Jay
Comments: 50
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> How to even introduce this fic... I can't. Writing it has been a Journey.
> 
> This is about the Half in the Baaaaaag characters and their world only. Rich is a literal angel who is responsible for Mike’s mortal soul!! 
> 
> (Though that’s probably true irl, too.)
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who has read my stories this year! It’s been great fun to write them and this little fandom has been so welcoming, I appreciate it a lot. Happy New Year!! <3
> 
> **

It was an unusually busy day at the VCR repair shop when the apocalypse came raining down onto Mike’s head out of nowhere. They’d had two phone calls, which was almost unheard of, and when a tall guy in too-tight jeans came in with a big smile, like he was about to try to sell them something, Mike assumed it was just that: an unwanted sales pitch, because what were the odds that they’d gotten a walk-in customer on the same day they’d also had two calls? 

Admittedly, both calls had been confused elderly people dialing the wrong number. Mike had still done an epic amount of work by answering the phone both times and determining this was the case before slamming it back down. 

“Hey,” the tall guy said. He was smiling at Jay, which wasn’t unusual. People were drawn to Jay. He was like a beam of precious sunlight in a harsh Milwaukee winter. Mike had long ago moved past being jealous about this and had started wondering what Jay’s skin would taste like if Mike were to lean over and lick his cheek or his bicep, because both looked like they would taste really fucking good.

“Hey,” Jay said, smiling back like he knew this guy, which: what the fuck? Mike didn’t know this guy. So how could Jay? They were almost never apart, by Mike’s design.

The guy’s gaze shifted to Mike, and his smile faded a little. He looked nervous. 

Mike enjoyed inspiring fear in others. He sat up a little taller and stared the guy down, waiting to hear what he was selling and looking forward to telling him to get the fuck out of here with his ability to make Jay smile at him. 

“I’m Tom, by the way,” the guy said. 

“Great,” Mike said. “What do you want?”

“Um,” Jay said when Tom gave him a look of confusion. Jay was red-faced when Mike turned his own look of confusion on Jay. “Mike, uh. I’ve been meaning to tell you. This is Tom.”

“Yeah, I heard. So what?”

“We’re seeing each other,” Jay said. His blush was spreading down onto his neck, also onto his ears. “So. Yeah.”

“Sorry,” Tom said, softly, speaking to Jay. “I thought you told him.” 

“No-- It’s fine.” Jay jumped out of his seat and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, avoiding Mike’s eyes. “We’re going to a movie, so. I gotta knock off a little early, um. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Mike couldn’t respond. He was frozen in time, dying. Jay turned back after shrugging his jacket on and gave Mike a nervous, pleading look. 

“What,” Mike finally said, his voice thinned out by shock.

“We can talk about it later,” Jay said. “I gotta go, our movie--”

“What movie?” Mike asked, trying to mask his horror. He felt like he should stand, throw something to distract Tom, grab Jay’s arm and pull him back behind the counter, because no-- No! No, this could not happen. 

“It’s an old Fulci movie that’s playing at the indie theater,” Tom said, cheerfully oblivious to Mike’s inner turmoil. “I’ve never seen it. Jay has, of course.”

“Not in a theater!” Jay said, and he smiled at Tom again. Jay looked happy, like he couldn’t believe his luck, even though Tom wasn’t that cute. He was bland-looking, if anything: brown hair, brown eyes, dumb grin. Also, too skinny. Also, those jeans?? 

Mike was going to lodge a formal complaint. He had to think. He wanted to die.

“So,” Jay said, turning back to Mike, his smile transforming into a queasy, uncertain look. “See you tomorrow?”

“Oh, fine, just leave me here to finish the shift alone and do everything myself!”

“Everything?” Jay looked at the front counter, which was littered with crap, none of which was a VCR in any stage of being repaired. They hadn’t had one of those in months. Maybe it was even approaching a year. 

“I’m gonna have to lock up by myself, Jay,” Mike said, jabbing his palm with his finger. “And, um. Sweep! The back room. And reload the toilet paper in the bathroom.” 

“I’ll do all that shit myself tomorrow,” Jay said, already backing toward the door, toward Tom. “How’s that?”

“Fine, Jay. Fine. Whatever. I don’t give a shit.” 

Jay sighed and turned to Tom, looking glum.

“Can you give us a minute?” Jay asked, muttering.

“Sure thing,” Tom said. He smiled at Mike, seeming less scared of him now. He even looked a little smug, the fucker. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

Mike said nothing, just stared until Tom walked out. 

“Jesus,” Jay said when Tom was outside. “You don’t have to be such a dick to him. He’s nice, okay? And, um. I deserve happiness, Mike.”

Mike recoiled, sneering. Jay had happiness. Happiness was a chair next to Mike’s behind the counter and a full day of drinking beer and talking about movies. 

“Say something,” Jay said, walking closer to the counter. He put his little hands on it and gave Mike a pitiful, begging look. “Don’t wreck this for me by being weird, please.”

“How could I wreck your love life, Jay? I have no power there.” 

“You’re my best friend, and I don’t want you to feel abandoned, but this is something I need, okay?”

“Going to Fulci movies with some beanpole who will probably think you’re a freak for dragging him to watch that shit?”

Jay frowned. He was adorable when angry. Mike was in hell, sinking.

“He knows what he’s in for,” Jay said. “He knows what I like.”

“How the hell long has this been going on? Behind my back? Why are you only telling me now?”

“I didn’t want to tell you at all! I knew you’d act like this.” 

“Like what, Jay? Like _what_?”

“Angry that I dared to have a life outside of our friendship.” 

“No! That’s not the problem here. The problem is lies. Deception!”

“I don’t have to disclose everything I do to you, Mike.”

“Yes, you do! What’s the point of a friendship if we keep secrets? What if I told you I’d had a girlfriend for weeks and didn’t want to tell you because I thought you’d be jealous?”

Mike didn’t mean to say that last part. He could feel the color draining from his face. Jay looked surprised, then angry again. 

“Your sex life is none of my business,” Jay said. “I never wanted to know anything about your conquests, if we’re being perfectly honest here.” 

“Conquests?” Mike sputtered. “Are you accusing me of bragging?”

“Mike, I don’t have time to fight about this right now. Tom is waiting.”

“Fuck Tom! You’re cutting out of work early after lying to me for weeks about whatever’s going on with you and that man, and I don’t like it, Jay! You’ve changed! And not for the better!”

“You sound insane right now. God! Why does everything have to be so dramatic with you? Everything’s fucking life or death!”

“Whatever, Jay, don’t fucking diagnose me! Go, if you want to! Go have fun with Slenderman out there, watching your trash movie that you think is high art just because it’s fucking disgusting. I hope he pukes on you halfway through.” 

“Fuck you, Mike!”

“Back atcha, asshole!”

Jay stormed out of the store and slammed the door behind him, the bell on it rattling so hard that Mike braced himself for it to crash to the floor along with all of Mike’s hope for the future, which he never should have hung on Jay just staying by his side forever, content to maintain the status quo. Mike knew that dream was shot to shit as soon as Jay got his hair cut, lost a little weight, fixed his teeth, and was suddenly-- like, in a day, in a blink --hot as fuck.

When Jay was gone, Mike paced around the store muttering to himself and kicking things over, including Jay’s chair. He decided to close early, because fuck it: if Jay got to clock out, Mike wasn’t going to sit there like a chump and do double the work for the rest of the day. 

He went across the street to his favorite bar and ordered a whiskey instead of a beer, threw that back and ordered another. He switched to beer after that, leaning over his pint glass and glowering at nothing in particular, thinking about Jay in a movie theater with that punk ass Tom. Were they holding hands? Was Jay leaning over to whisper obscure Fulci trivia into Tom’s stupid fucking ear? Was Tom stroking Jay’s thigh in the dark, impressed rather than horrified by Jay’s ability to get aroused by sickening Italian nonsense films? 

“Argh,” Mike said, wincing at the thought. 

“The hell’s your problem?” Mr. Plinkett asked.

Mike scowled at the old man. He hadn’t even noticed when he walked in, but Mr. Plinkett was sitting just two bar stools away, drinking some reddish cocktail that looked like NyQuil.

“None of your fucking business,” Mike said, snarling at Plinkett. “Stay out of it.”

“I’d be glad to, asshole, but your angst is disturbing my attempt to watch this ball game.”

Plinkett gestured to the TV over the bar, which was showing the Brewers game. 

“I got money on this,” Plinkett said. “Tryin’ to concentrate over here. So quit your grousing.”

“I’ll grouse if I want to, you miserable old fuck. You don’t own this bar. I’m a paying customer, same as you.”

“Ah, Christ.” Plinkett waved his hand at the TV when a batter for the Brewers struck out and the game went to commercial. “See, you’re bad luck!” he said, lifting his cane to point it at Mike. 

“Good,” Mike said. “I hope you’re losing a lot of money on this game. Hope you go broke.”

“Ey, fuck you! What’s the matter, d’you lose your little boyfriend? Where’s he gone off to, anyway? Usually when you’re in here you at least bring that sexy little twink with you.”

Mike said nothing, just sneered at Plinkett when he hoisted himself over to sit on the barstool beside Mike’s for some reason. 

“Seriously, where’s Jay?” Plinkett asked. “He got a hot date or something?”

“Fuck you,” Mike said, disliking how suddenly watery his voice sounded.

“Aw, goddammit.” Plinkett sighed and lifted his glass as if to toast. “Hey, we both knew it was gonna happen sooner or later. Here’s to missed chances. What I wouldn’t give to have his sweet little ass in bed with me every night. I was so close!”

“I’m not toasting to that,” Mike said, tempted to spit into Plinkett’s glass instead.

“Suit yourself, fuck-o.” Plinkett took a sip. Whatever he was drinking smelled like NyQuil, too. “S’not like I don’t know you’re crying yourself to sleep over him at night, too.” 

“You don’t know shit,” Mike muttered, fully anticipating that happening later.

A woman walked into the bar. This was a somewhat rare occurrence for this place, since it was a cigarette-y dump that attracted the likes of Plinkett and Mike. She was short and busty, a red-head who was smiling to herself like she had some kind of prank to play on the bar’s parishioners.

“Ey, Lucifer,” Plinkett said when she walked over toward them. 

“Evening, Harry,” the woman said. She looked from Plinkett to Mike, grinning. “Who’s your friend?”

“This loser fixes VCRs,” Plinkett said, gesturing to Mike with his thumb. “His name escapes me.”

“It’s Mike.” He glared at Plinkett, then looked curiously at the woman. “Did he just call you Lucifer?”

“Uh-huh.” She sidled up to the bar, leaning in between Mike and Plinkett. “Gimme a shot of Jaeger,” she said when the bartender walked over.

“Is that your name?” Mike asked after she’d thrown back her shot. “Lucifer?”

“You can call me Lucy.” She ran her finger along the back of Mike’s collar, making him shiver, which was embarrassing. She was very pretty. He hadn’t had the attention of a woman in a while. “How’s it goin’?” she asked when Mike just stared at her, nervous.

“Bad,” Mike said, not really up for flirting.

“Oh no. How come?”

“Uh. Well. My friend and I had a fight.” 

“I wouldn’t confide in her if I were you,” Plinkett said, staring up at the TV again. The Brewers game had come back on.

“Harry, please,” Lucy said. She was still looking at Mike, still grinning. “Don’t bad mouth me to your friend.” 

“He ain’t my friend.” 

“How do you two know each other?” Mike asked, wondering why a hot woman would know Plinkett’s first name. Maybe she’d tried to rob him, too. 

“Harry and I go way back,” Lucy said. 

“Will you two take it elsewhere?” Plinkett said, waving his hand in their direction. “I’m tryin’ to watch my game!”

“Fine by me,” Lucy said. She hadn’t really taken her eyes off Mike’s since locking her gaze on his. Mike was pretty sure she hadn’t even blinked. “Come sit with me,” she said, tugging at his arm. “You look like you could use someone to talk to.”

Mike was wary, but she wasn’t wrong. He needed a friendly ear. He got a beer refill and followed Lucy to the back corner of the bar, sitting beside her at an empty table with a dirty old ash tray on it. 

“So?” Lucy said, leaning over to put her arm around Mike’s shoulders. She smelled pretty good, like Jaeger and a bonfire. “What’s troubling you, sweetie?”

“Well.” Mike cleared his throat. “Um. I’ve got this friend--”

“Is he really just a friend, Mike?” she asked, giving him a knowing, mock-sympathetic look.

“Huh?” Mike blinked at her, feeling weird. “Yeah, I mean. I, I dunno. I guess, I, uh. Wish he was something more, lately. Because he got real hot, see. And even before that, I sorta, you know. Loved him?”

“Awww.” Lucy giggled and sat back a little, her eyes twinkling with a kind of amused malice that Mike knew he should flee from. Despite that, for some reason, he just wanted to lean further into it. “That’s so cute. Listen, I want to help you out.”

“Help me? How?”

“I can give you what you want.” Her eyes seemed to brighten as she said so, and Mike felt his own eyes widening responsively, his heart beating faster when she leaned in close to whisper in his ear: “I can make him want you.” 

Mike shuddered and pulled back. She just smiled at him, slipping her arm around his shoulders again. 

“What?” Mike managed to say, his throat feeling tight. “What are you talking about?”

“Mhmm, poor Mike. You would be sooo good to him, wouldn’t you? Better than anybody else could be, certainly. No one loves him like you do. It’s just not _fair_ that he’d be with somebody else, is it?”

“Who the hell are you?” Mike asked, frozen, eyes wide. 

“You know who I am, Mike. So? What do you say? Do you want to make a deal?”

Mike grabbed his beer and gulped from it, needing to get his bearings. He felt hot all over, the back of his neck burning. 

Lucy put her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. She was smiling, calm, patient. 

“You’re crazy, lady,” Mike said. 

“Aww, don’t be mean. And don’t pass up this opportunity. Who knows if it will ever come again? And if it doesn’t, ooh boy. You’re gonna have to spend the rest of your life watching him date other guys, and thinking about what they’re doing to him when they’re alone with him. _I_ know what they’re doing, Mike. Do you want me to tell you?”

“What-- No!”

“Right now?” Lucy said, leaning over to put her lips against Mike’s ear. “He’s at that movie theater with the tall one. And they’re touching each other. Just a little bit, for now, with their arms pressed together in the dark. But later? Oh, Mike. Later, that guy is going to _fuck_ your little friend, he’s going to fuck him _so_ hard--”

“Stop!” Mike said, loud enough that Plinkett and the bartender turned to stare. Mike’s heart was pounding, and he’d started to sweat under his shirt. “You-- What do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

She was grinning, unblinking, locked on him. 

“Fine!” Mike said, glaring at her. “If you’re for real, do whatever you want. What do I need a stupid soul for anyway. Just don’t-- Don’t let that guy fuck Jay,” he said, whispering, also starting to shake a little. “Please, god. Not him. He can’t.”

“Done!” Lucy giggled and snapped her fingers, sitting back. “Enjoy your reward, sweetie. Gotta go now, but I’ll be seein’ ya.”

Mike watched her go, gulping more beer and feeling dazed. It wasn’t quite like being drunk, but he felt unnaturally calm in a similar way, even while he wasn’t sure what the fuck was actually going on.

Lucy clapped Plinkett on the back on her way out of the bar and was gone, disappearing into the late afternoon glow that blazed in the bar’s open doorway. 

When Mike stood up, his legs felt wobbly. He went to the bar, not sure if he wanted a refill or to pay his tab and go home to lie in bed feeling shaky and fucked up, like maybe something bad had just happened.

“Jesus,” Plinkett said, looking over at him. “D’you just sell your soul to her?”

“Huh?” Mike glared at Plinkett. “No-- What. Maybe, I. I don’t understand, what just happened?”

“She bamboozled you, idiot! I tried to warn you. Eh, but it’s not that big of a deal. I sold my soul to her eighty-four years ago for a sandwich. Haven’t missed it a bit. And it was a damn good sandwich.”

“You’re nuts,” Mike muttered. He slapped some cash on the bartop and stumbled backward, ready to be home and maybe to hide under the blankets on his bed. “Hope your team loses.” 

“Oh, Mike.” Plinkett pulled his sunglasses down, which froze Mike in place with shock. He’d never seen the old man’s eyes before. They were freakishly blue, almost glowing. “We’re on the same team now,” Plinkett said, smiling in a sickeningly pleased way.

“Fuck off!” Mike said. 

He left the bar then, running.

**


	2. Chapter 2

By the time he got home, Mike had managed to convince himself it was just the whiskey making him feel off, not the actions of those two weirdos at the bar. He didn’t normally drink the hard stuff, and was hungry, needed a real meal. He ordered a pizza and sat on the saggy couch in his apartment, trying to sober up. It wasn’t normally something he sought to achieve, but he felt like he needed to get his head back on straight. 

He was considering making a pot of coffee when there was a knock on his door. He got up to answer it, anticipating his pizza, and almost shouted in surprise when he found Jay standing outside instead. 

“Hey,” Jay said. “Can I come in?”

“Um. What. Why-- What happened to your date?”

“I couldn’t enjoy the movie, I was too upset about our fight.”

“Oh.” Mike told himself this was fine. Everything was fine. 

“So can I come in?” Jay asked.

“Sure,” Mike said, stepping aside to let him pass.

“Look,” Jay said, standing in the middle of Mike’s apartment, which was a tiny studio that Mike was suddenly embarrassed about, because the place was a mess. “I’m sorry, okay?” Jay said, walking a little closer to Mike. “I knew it was weird that I was keeping it from you, just. I didn’t want you to freak out.” 

“I’m not freaking out,” Mike said. 

Jay rolled his eyes. “Right. Anyway, it’s not even that serious. Like, he’s cool and everything, but, you know. He does yoga and drinks shandy.” 

“What the fuck is shandy?” Mike asked, his heart ballooning a little. Because this was good news, right? Right. 

“It’s this lemonade beer thing, I don’t even know.” 

There was another knock on the door, and Mike jumped.

“Jesus,” Jay said, laughing at Mike’s reaction. “What’s wrong? You’re all tense.”

“No, I’m not.” 

Mike went to the door, his hand shaking when he turned the knob. This time he was expecting that Lucy woman, anticipating her evil smirk, and he exhaled with relief when he saw it was just a pizza delivery guy. 

“That smells really good,” Jay said when Mike brought the pizza over to his little kitchen table. “Can I have some?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, beckoning him. “You, uh. Really walked out on your date to come apologize to me?”

Jay shrugged. He was blushing when he took a seat across from Mike at the table, reaching for a slice of pizza. 

“Is he waiting outside?” Mike asked, grabbing one for himself.

“Who?” Jay asked. 

“Tom!”

“Oh, no. He was annoyed with me for canceling the date, I think. He went home.”

“Hmm.” 

Mike’s stomach hurt. He ate three slices of pizza anyway, half-listening to Jay blather about whatever Fulci movie they’d been seeing and why it was actually brilliant, not a nonsensical garbage fest.

“Wow, I was really hungry,” Jay said, touching his gut after he’d wolfed down four slices of pizza between comments about Fulci. “Ugh, and I ate too fast. Want to watch a movie or something?” 

“Maybe,” Mike said, studying Jay’s face. He didn’t look different, haunted or enchanted or anything. His eyes were clear and sweet. “Do you feel okay?” Mike asked. 

“Yeah, just a little fat after all that pizza.”

“Oh, Christ. You’re not fat, Jay.” 

“I know, I’m kidding. Sort of. Why are you asking? Do I look sick or something?”

“No. You look.” Mike hesitated, squirming in his seat. “Good.”

Jay snorted and grinned. “What’s going on with you?” he asked. “You’re acting so weird.”

“I am not. What movie do you want to watch?”

Jay wanted to watch _Back to the Future III_. Mike thought that was a lame choice, but not particularly alarming. Outside, a thunderstorm had started up, and the single window in Mike’s apartment was splattered with rain as they settled in on the couch to watch the movie. Mike tried to pay attention, but he’d seen this movie a million times and it was pretty stupid. He kept catching himself watching Jay from the corner of his eye, which wasn’t unusual when they watched a movie together. Mike wasn’t sure what he was expecting to miss if he stopped doing this like he knew he should, just that he knew what Jay looked like and wanted to see more of it. 

Jay was yawning by the movie’s final action scene on the train, and he’d let his head rest back against the couch, eyelids heavy. Every time he sighed, Mike tensed up, expecting Jay to do-- What? Something. The storm was still raging outside. 

When the end credits started up, Mike turned to ask Jay if he wanted to watch something scary, since the storm seemed to call for a horror movie, but Jay was asleep, slumped back against the couch and dozing peacefully. 

Mike debated waking him while letting himself stare. Jay looked cute when he was sleeping. He looked cute all the goddamn time-- No, hot. Both! He was the type of guy Mike wanted to both cuddle protectively and fuck to pieces. Or maybe it wasn’t a type, since for Mike this had only ever been true of one guy: Jay.

Mike rubbed his hand over his face and groaned as quietly as he could. He was starting to lose his mind over this Jay thing, clearly. Hallucinating devil women, even. He decided to sleep it off, and went to get a blanket for Jay. It was late spring and still got cold at night.

He draped the blanket over Jay carefully, not wanting him to wake up and leave. The storm was too dangerous for him to drive in, and Mike didn’t want to be away from him until he knew what the hell was going on-- Probably nothing, but. Just in case. 

Mike took his jeans and work shirt off and got into bed in his undershirt and boxers, exhausted by the many emotions this day had leveled at him. The apartment was so small that his bed was in view of the couch, but he rolled toward the wall, telling himself it would be too creepy to watch Jay sleep from across the room. Anyway, he wasn’t going to manage to stay awake much longer. As soon as he got comfortable he felt himself drifting off.

Mike dreamed that he was back in the bar, only this time Lucy was the bartender. She was wearing a black Playboy bunny getup and was laughing at Mike while pouring some kind of lava-like substance into a shot glass that was overflowing and spilling all over the counter and then onto the floor. Her teeth were pointy when she grinned at him. 

“Go on, honey,” she said, teeth getting sharper as she spoke. “Drink up.”

Mike woke up with a gasp, and he almost screamed when he saw he wasn’t alone. Some shadowy figure was climbing into bed with him. Lightning struck outside, briefly illuminating the apartment. 

“Sorry,” Jay said, crawling over toward Mike. “Did I scare you?”

“What-- What are you doing?”

“Can I get in with you? It’s so cold in here. I can’t get warm.”

Mike sat up on his elbow, his heart beating fast. He could feel sweat beading at the back of his neck. Was he still dreaming? Jay was in his boxer shorts and the Halloween-themed t-shirt he’d been wearing earlier, jeans stripped off. Mike’s bed wasn’t that big, just a double mattress on a box spring, and once Jay settled in he was lying close to Mike under the blankets, the one that Mike had draped over him abandoned on the sofa. How cold could he really be if he didn’t bring that one over with him?

“Is this okay?” Jay asked, whispering. He did look a little shivery, even tucked into Mike’s bed and curling in close to him, just short of touching him. 

“Yeah,” Mike said, also whispering. He wasn’t sure who they were trying to hide from by being so quiet. Wondering this gave him a shudder, and he sank back down to his pillow, lying on his side and facing Jay. The storm was still going outside, rain coming down hard and thunder occasionally rumbling, distant now.

“Aren’t you cold?” Jay asked, scooting a little closer. Mike could smell his breath. It smelled like pizza. “I can’t stop shaking, look.”

Jay lifted his hand, which was indeed trembling. His shoulders were visibly shaky, too. 

“C’mere,” Mike said, softly enough that maybe Jay wouldn’t hear him. 

Jay gave Mike an uncertain half-smile and moved closer, pushing his face down under Mike’s chin and curling up against his chest. 

“Oh, god,” Jay said, and he tucked his arm around Mike’s side, clinging. “Mike, mpfh. Why do you smell so good?”

“I-- Don’t?” 

Now Mike’s hands were shaking, too. This couldn’t be-- It wasn’t only because-- There was no way--

Jay moaned and pulled his knees up to rest them against Mike’s gut, getting as much of himself onto Mike’s chest as he could. 

“Jesus, that’s better,” Jay said, rubbing his face against the collar of Mike’s t-shirt. “Thanks.” 

Mike couldn’t speak. His throat was dry. It felt mean and also unbearable to not put his arm around Jay’s little shoulders, so he did it, holding him close and still trying to tell himself this wasn’t too out of the ordinary. 

“Mhm,” Jay said, shifting his legs against Mike’s belly in a way that made Mike start to sweat under his shirt, heart still slamming. Surely Jay could feel it. His cheek was right there, pressed over Mike’s pounding heartbeat. “You’re so warm,” Jay said, eyes closed. He was smiling, looked blissed out on something harder than booze. 

“Are you okay?” Mike asked, making his hand into a fist on Jay’s back. 

“Yeah.” Jay laughed under his breath. “Sorry, just. I guess I, uh. Needed something like this.”

“This?”

“Some physical, um. Attention.” Jay squirmed a little and sighed against Mike’s shirt. His breath was warm through the thin cotton. “And you wrecked my date, so.”

“So I owe you?” Mike asked. He could feel himself smirking, and was guiltily beginning to enjoy this despite his panic about the fact that Jay might be under a demon’s spell or something. But how could that be true? 

Jay seemed good, like his usual self, if maybe a liiiiitle more affectionate and shameless. Maybe everything was okay. It was, right? Yes, had to be.

“Your heart’s going crazy,” Jay said, rubbing his cheek against its wild pounding.

“I-- It’s heartburn, that’s all. From the pizza.” 

“You put that blanket over me.”

“So?”

Jay pressed his lips together like he was holding in a laugh. He nudged his face against Mike’s chest again, over his heartbeat. He looked perfect in the rain-splattered streetlight from the window, like all of Mike’s best dreams come true: cozy and fidgeting in Mike’s arms with some kind of growing need that was making him blush. 

“I feel all keyed up,” Jay said, whispering again, like they were kids awake after lights-out at a slumber party. “Like, restless. I guess ‘cause my plan for the night got spoiled.” 

“Sorry,” Mike said, wondering why Jay looked so happy about it.

“It’s okay. I mean, uh. My plan was to have sex.” 

Mike said nothing, held his breath. Jay had a wild, needful look in his eyes when he lifted his face to lock his gaze on Mike’s. It was the exact look Mike had so long dreamed of seeing there, only now it was shadowed with Mike’s insane doubt about this occult shit that couldn’t possibly be involved, because this felt pure and sweet, even when Jay shifted so Mike could feel him getting hard. 

“Mph.” Jay said, swallowing. He twitched his hips and his eyelids fluttered, his breath coming faster. “Mike, I could-- I don’t know if you even sleep with guys--”

“I want to,” Mike blurted, before he could stop himself. “With you.”

“Yeah?” Jay’s eyes got bright. 

“Yes. So much. Jay.”

Jay surged up to kiss Mike on the mouth. It was like being filled with vibrant, electric energy, everything in Mike waking up and pressing toward Jay. Mike moaned when Jay pinned his shoulders to the bed and half-climbed on top of him, licking across Mike’s parted lips like he’d been waiting to do this for years.

“Wait,” Mike said, breathless, because if that was the case, everything was okay. And if it wasn’t, Mike couldn’t go through with this. “You didn’t just-- suddenly wake up and want this today, did you? Or, uh, as of a few hours ago?”

“More like a few decades,” Jay said, breathing hard. “Mike, don’t make me say it.” 

“Say what?”

“All the emotional shit. Please, let’s just-- Can I suck you off?”

“Jesus christ.”

“Please? I’ll make it good for you, I promise. I just need--” Jay moaned and shuddered all over. “I need st-stimulation, or something.” 

Mike’s eyes went wide. 

“Do you believe in the devil?” he asked, voice shaking.

Jay snorted and frowned, rearing backward. 

“No,” he said. “You know I think that supernatural crap is bullshit.”

“What about Xandu?”

“What about him?”

“Well, if he exists, why not the devil?”

“I dunno, the devil just seems even stupider and more impossible. Why are we talking about this? Are you trying to tell me you think you’ll go to hell if you have sex with a man?”

“No! I just-- Um. So you don’t think, theoretically, that a demon could, say, grant a wish--”

“Are you okay?” Jay put his hand on Mike’s forehead. “You’re babbling and you feel kinda feverish.”

“I just really want you,” Mike said, voice breaking. 

Jay made a sympathetic little noise and kissed him again. He pulled back before Mike was ready to stop, breathing hard. Jay was tugging at the hem of Mike’s shirt, trying to get it off of him. 

“Decades?” Mike said when he sat up to take his shirt off. He needed to be sure. “Really?”

“Keep making fun of me about it and I might not suck your dick,” Jay said. 

This was so in character that Mike beamed. That nonsense in the bar was just Plinkett and some hooker trying to scam him, surely. Jay was unassailable goodness that could not be corrupted by any evil wishes Mike had made, now or ever.

“I’m not making fun.” Mike whipped his shirt off and threw it on the floor. His cock was hard just from the suggestion that Jay might lick it even once. “Jay, I, um. Earlier, when I was rude to that guy? It’s because--”

“I know.” Jay leaned over to kiss Mike, to shut him up. “I’m not stupid,” he said, softly, keeping his face close to Mike’s. “I kept thinking about it, in the theater. It was all I could think about. How if I went back to the shop, maybe I could just. Have you.” 

Mike moaned and kissed Jay again, pulling him into his lap. They both gasped when their dicks brushed together, and a needful heat shot down Mike’s spine at the sensation. He pulled Jay’s shirt off and moaned again when his hands were on Jay’s bare chest. 

“You shave it?” Mike said, trying not to sound mocking when he touched the spot between Jay’s pecs where he’d seen some sparse chest hair poking out of Jay’s shirt collars before. 

“Only when I have a date,” Jay said, face flaming. His hands were on Mike’s chest, too. “Please don’t ever shave yours,” he said, looking mesmerized. 

“Giving me grooming instructions already?” Mike couldn’t resist jokes even now. He smirked when Jay peeked up at his face again. 

“Mike,” Jay said, sounding desperate. Mike nodded and kissed him, held him tighter. 

Mike wasn’t sure if he could let Jay blow him, still too spooked by the timing of this, but it felt okay to grind against him so that their cocks rubbed together while they made out-- More than okay, fucking incredible, revelatory, even strangely innocent. They were both panting against each other’s mouths while they kissed, needing to come.

“Please,” Jay said, shaking in Mike’s hands. “Mike, I’m fucking serious, I want your cock in my mouth.”

“Holy shit,” Mike said, groaning. “Just-- Hang on. Let me do you first.”

“Do me, you--” Jay’s eyebrows went up. “You know how to do it? You’ve been with a guy?”

“No!” He had, actually, but didn’t want to get into it just then. “I just, uh. How hard could it be?”

Jay snorted at the double entendre and shifted his hips, whining when his bare cock dragged against Mike’s. They had both pulled themselves out from their boxer shorts just enough to get maximum contact. 

“Here,” Mike said, and he flipped Jay onto his back, moving him so swiftly that Jay made a surprised little noise and blinked up at Mike like he was impressed by that maneuver. Mike grinned and stroked Jay’s beard, touched his puffy lips. Jay peered up at him with what looked like adoration and shimmied out of his boxer shorts, blushing. 

“I didn’t think you’d want me like this,” Jay said when Mike hesitated. He wanted to just stare at Jay for a while, and also couldn’t get what happened in the bar entirely out of his mind. It was making him cautious where normally he’d be heedless and crazed. 

“Who wouldn’t want you?” Mike asked, still stroking Jay’s face. “You’re so--” Mike took a deep breath, exhaled and shrugged. “I bet you’ve been a gay epiphany for a lot of guys. You sure as shit were mine. You have this kind of glow around you. You always have, even before the haircut.” 

“Oh god.” Jay laughed a little, wincing. “Don’t get all sappy.” 

Mike grunted, again satisfied that Jay was acting like his usual self, despite begging to have Mike’s cock in his mouth. Everything else was perfectly in character: Jay’s lack of patience for anything emotional, his unapologetic way of making demands, also the way he licked his lips and spread his legs greedily when Mike sank down toward his dick. 

“Jesus,” Jay whispered, watching Mike zero in on his target. 

Mike was too amazed that this was happening at all to really be nervous. He still had to take a moment to just stare and lick his lips. As Mike had long suspected, Jay’s dick somehow managed to be cute, blushing pink and sticky at the head with anticipation, rock hard for Mike’s tongue as he licked up along the shaft. Mike moaned under his breath for the noises Jay was already making, also for the way his thighs trembled around Mike’s ears. Mike wanted to lick him everywhere, but they could do that later. Jay was close; Mike could feel it in the way he shook. 

“Mike,” Jay said. He sounded helpless. Mike liked it.

He took Jay’s cock in his mouth and moaned for the feeling of it on his tongue, salty and solid, throbbing. Jay whined and bucked his hips a little, then more gently when Mike gave his thighs a squeeze. It was ironic that Mike had never felt as in control of anything as he did while bobbing his head on Jay’s dick, sucking him off. He’d fooled around with guys before but had never tried this, at least not on the giving end. Without even realizing it consciously, he’d been saving this for Jay.

“Oh,” Jay said, softly, and Mike could hear him breaking. He loved it, wanted it. “Muh, Mike--”

Mike didn’t budge except to keep bobbing his head, lips closed tight around Jay’s dick as he sucked him for all he was worth. He had no idea why this felt so right, but it really fucking did, and he wanted the whole thing, all of it, wanted to swallow it down. 

“ _Nn_ hh-- hah--”

Jay sort of squeaked and twitched hard in Mike’s grip, and then he was pulsing on Mike’s tongue, coming in his mouth. He sighed and went limp against the mattress as he emptied himself, his thighs sweaty under Mike’s hands. Swallowing was easy, Mike found, and Jay tasted-- Good, actually.

Like kinda weirdly good.

Jay looked sweet and a little stunned in the aftermath, peering down at Mike with soft eyes. He tasted sweet, too, Mike thought, licking over his lips, confused. Admittedly, he’d never swallowed another guy’s come before. Did some guys just naturally have come that tasted like the frosting on a cinnamon bun? Because Jesus Christ, Jay did. 

“Does yours always taste like this?” Mike asked, surging up to kiss Jay so he could see what Mike meant.

Jay made a muffled sound of maybe confusion but opened his lips for Mike’s kiss and shrugged when he pulled back.

“Uh, yeah?” Jay said. “That’s just what come tastes like, sorry. Kinda bitter.”

“No-- What? It doesn’t taste bitter at all.” 

Jay snorted and frowned a little, like Mike was making some joke that he wasn’t quite getting. He sat up onto his elbow and pushed Mike over onto his side, then his back.

“My turn,” Jay said.

“You don’t have to--”

“Shut up, okay? I want to.”

“Why, though? What do you even like about me?”

“Oh my god! Mike, stop. You’re not actually this insecure, are you?”

Mike wasn’t sure how to respond. No, he wasn’t. He’d certainly never before delayed a blow job to interview the offerer about why they were attracted to him. But he needed to hear it in Jay’s own words, after what had happened at the bar. 

“It’s just, you were with that guy this afternoon,” Mike said, disliking the fact that this was a legitimate point of protest as well as a way to avoid saying that his real insecurity lay in the conversation he’d had with that woman in the bar. “You seemed pretty into him. And now-- This, suddenly?” 

“I told you,” Jay said. “Seeing you act like a jealous ass made me realize I was wasting my time dating some perfectly nice but unexceptional guy when I could be with the guy I really want. Which is you, by the way.” 

“Oh.” Mike supposed that made sense. He swallowed and looked down at his dick, which was still very hard, protruding lewdly from the slit in his boxers. 

“Take ‘em off,” Jay said, pushing at the hem. “I want to see the whole package.”

“Package,” Mike said, mocking him a little. He reached down to pinch Jay’s ass when he got a snarly look in response. Was he allowed to do that now? Jay just grunted, still looking snarly, but all seemed forgiven when Mike slid his boxers down, kicked them away, and revealed the full package. 

“Jesus,” Jay said, grabbing for him. Mike groaned and thrust his hips up, already close. Sucking Jay off had been hot as fuck, and he kept running his tongue over his teeth, unable to believe how good Jay’s come had tasted, like literal frosting. Mike decided Jay must take some supplement that made it that way, and that he didn’t want to tell Mike because he was embarrassed by his vanity in this area and others. 

“Oh holy god,” Mike said, watching Jay move down between his legs. “This is really happening.” 

“You wanted it?” Jay said. He was teasing, trying to be cute, but he also looked sincerely hopeful and a little worried Mike would say no. “Like I did?”

“Obviously!”

“I mean. For a long time?”

Mike groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. He needed to come way too urgently to get into the intricate details of how slowly his obsession with Jay had gone from ‘intense friendship’ to ‘want to know what he sounds like when he’s getting fucked’ territory.

“A long time,” Mike confessed, because at the heart of it all, that was true. Even when they were youngsters, way before Jay looked this good, Mike had wanted him around in a fiercely unquenchable way. That had never been true of anyone else. Jay was required in all situations, never optional. 

“Well, in that case I guess I’ll suck your dick,” Jay said, smirking. 

Mike groaned so loud he was sure his neighbors would hear it when Jay took him into his mouth, but he gave no fucks, just reached down to cup his hands around the back of Jay’s head as gently as he could manage. He pushed up into the heat of Jay’s mouth with the same level of restraint, not wanting to ruin this by getting rough right away. Jay was fearless, meanwhile, deep throating him already. Mike chewed hard on his bottom lip, wanting this to last even as he accepted that it was impossible, because Jay was too good, too hot and wet around his cock and so hungry for it, choking Mike down like a goddamn expert. 

“Fuck,” Mike said, peering down over his heaving chest to watch. “Ah, I-- Shit, fuck, I’m gonna--”

Jay pulled off and grinned when Mike did a whimper thing at the loss of Jay’s warm mouth around his dick.

“Already?” Jay said.

“We dry humped for like ten minutes! And, I. I got off on doing it to you, okay?”

Jay smiled more sweetly and licked across Mike’s cockhead with the flat of his tongue, maintaining eye contact with him. 

“Glad we both like sucking dick,” Jay said. He took hold of Mike’s cock and pumped him too loosely, until Mike was whining at the back of his throat. “You want to know what else I like?”

“Oh, jesus, yes--”

“Kinda want to show you. Do you have lube?”

“Nuh, no, I mean-- Olive oil?”

Jay snickered. “I don’t want olive oil up my ass, but thanks for offering. Okay, we’ll do that later. But, jesus. If I had something right now, or if you weren’t about to go off anyway? I’d slick you up and fucking ride this cock until you were coming inside me.” 

Mike groaned and came, unprepared for how hard his orgasm hit. He couldn’t contain whatever insane noises he was making, some of them shaped vaguely like Jay’s name. He was still winding down from it when Jay sidled up beside him and rested his head on the pillow beside Mike’s, looking satisfied with himself and even a little smug, like Mike had bet him a hundred bucks that he wouldn’t come if Jay said filthy things to him while tugging on his cock just a little, just enough.

“Jesus, man,” Mike said, grabbing for him. “C’mere.” 

“I gotta wash my hand,” Jay said.

“Just wipe it on the sheets, I don’t care.”

“I already did-- Mmph, Mike--”

Jay let Mike kiss him, laughing a little against Mike’s mouth and relaxing into his encircling arms. Mike never wanted to let him go. A stray thought about the incident at the bar flickered across his mind, but he let it sink into the depths, unexamined. Not now: he wouldn’t let anything ruin this moment. 

Not even his fear that he’d somehow cheated in order to get it.

The storm outside had calmed down a little, but the rain was still falling. Mike wanted to stay awake and watch as Jay drifted to sleep in his arms, but he was too tired himself, already struggling to keep his eyes open. He felt like he was dreaming, like this was too good to be true, and was afraid he’d wake up alone in bed in the morning, with sticky sheets and the awful knowledge that he hadn’t really been the one who got Jay off the night before, that Jay was actually with that tall prick who’d come into the store earlier. 

“What are you gonna tell Tom?” Mike asked when Jay looked close to falling asleep, too.

Jay shrugged. “The truth, I guess.” 

“Which is what?”

“I dunno. Do you, uh. Want to be with me, like. For real?”

“Jesus, yes!” Mike kissed Jay on the lips and tightened his arm around Jay’s shoulders. “Yes,” Mike said again, nodding, like Jay might have missed that. Jay was smiling, so cute, just perfect. “I really, really do.”

“Okay then. That’s what I’ll tell him. That I’m with you.” 

Mike made an embarrassing noise of disbelieving gratitude and kissed Jay again when he laughed a little at the sound of it. 

In the morning, Mike knew even before waking fully that Jay was still with him, that it had all been real: he could still taste Jay’s strangely sweet come on his tongue, and he could feel the warmth and weight of Jay against him under the blankets. It was a chilly morning, post-rainstorm, and Mike wanted to stay cuddled up in bed with Jay all day, but they were already late for their shift at the repair shop. 

“Shit,” Mike said, sitting up and rubbing his palm over his face. “I guess we slept through my alarm.” 

“Mhm,” Jay said. He sat up, too, and draped himself onto Mike’s back. “It’s so cold in here,” he said, hugging himself around Mike, chin on his shoulder. Mike could feel Jay’s stiff little nipples against his back. He wished they’d gotten up early enough to fool around before work.

“Sorry,” Mike said. “I don’t run the heat outside of winter. Can’t afford it.” 

“It’s okay.” Jay was rubbing his face against Mike’s throat. His beard was scratchy, but it felt good, like he was marking Mike with his scent or something. “You’ve got hot water, I presume?”

Mike did, and they lingered together in the shower for longer than they should have, bringing each other off with languid hand jobs and giggling like idiots as the hot water steamed up Mike’s tiny bathroom. Mike was pretty sure he’d never been happier, and Jay seemed like he felt the same way. He was much more cuddly than Mike would have guessed, and always seemed to want to be touching some part of Mike. Even on the bus, when they were finally on their way in to work, Jay reached over to hold Mike’s hand. 

Mike told himself this was fine. Nothing to be alarmed about. When the bus pulled up to the repair shop, he averted his eyes from the bar across the street where he’d met Lucy the night before. That seemed like a dream now. He decided to pretend that it was. 

They took their usual spots behind the counter, and almost as soon as Jay took his jacket off he put it back on, complaining that it was cold in the shop.

Mike didn’t really think so, but he’d always been more hot-natured than Jay. He had his chub to keep him warm, whereas Jay was all lean muscle now. 

“Maybe you’re getting sick?” Mike said, because Jay was visibly shivering even with his jacket on. 

“I must be,” Jay said, shoulders lifting. “Fuck, it’s weird. I can’t get warm.” 

“Your teeth are chattering,” Mike said, dread looming closer. Something was wrong. “C’mere.”

Jay didn’t need to be asked twice: he jumped out of his chair and hurried over into Mike’s arms when he held them open. 

“Oh god,” Jay said, leaning in close. His face went right to Mike’s neck, and he wrapped both arms around Mike’s back, clinging. “That’s, yeah. That’s better, thanks.”

“Jay.” Mike swallowed heavily. He didn’t want to say it, but he fucking had to. “This is weird.”

“Weird?” Jay pulled back a little and gave Mike a nervous look. “Sorry, I’ll--”

“No, not you hugging me,” Mike said, and he pulled Jay close again when he started to move back. “That’s fine, but-- Do you, uh. Are you saying you don’t feel cold when you’re touching me?”

Jay got a little red-faced and shrugged.

“I dunno,” he muttered. “I mean, body heat helps, right? Do you think I’m faking it or something?”

“Jesus, no! I’m just worried about you.” Mike’s heart was beating fast. Should he tell Jay about what happened at the bar? Would he even believe it? “Um, it’s just. I ran into Mr. Plinkett yesterday at the bar, and he had this friend with him, and she sorta fucked with my head.” 

“She?” Jay looked a little concerned. Was he jealous? Mike liked the idea, even in the midst of everything else. 

“Yeah. Plinkett called her Lucifer. I think they were trying to play a joke on me or something, like. Trying to act like she was the devil.”

“Is this why you were asking me about the devil last night in bed?”

“Yeahhhh, about that--”

“What’s it got to do with me being cold?” Jay was still hovering in Mike’s arms. He was almost in Mike’s lap, and both his little hands were resting on Mike’s shoulders. Jay had stopped shivering, and his teeth weren’t chattering anymore. It was like a magic spell had waved his coldness away as soon as he laid hands on Mike. 

“It’s probably nothing,” Mike said, starting to sweat. “Just, uh. Go over to your chair for a second, okay? I want to do an experiment.” 

Jay looked glum after Mike gave him this order. He slid his hands off Mike’s shoulders and stepped back, climbed into his chair. For a second he seemed fine, and then he shuddered like a cold wind had just blown against him. 

“You’re seriously not cold?” Jay asked, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting his shoulders. 

“No. Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

“Oh, sure, and then I’ll go broke just for them telling me to wear more layers or something? You know I don’t have health insurance.” 

“Fuck.” Neither of them did; the repair shop job had zero benefits. “But what if something’s really wrong with you?”

“Like what? I’m just cold, Mike. I feel fine otherwise. What did this woman do to you at the bar, now?”

“Uhh, well. Like I said, she pretended to be the devil. Though she didn’t actually say so, it was just-- Implied. And she was real spooky, like, she didn’t blink? And she seemed to know things, or know how to get me to admit things--”

“Are you trying to tell me you fucked some woman in a bar last night before I came over?”

“No!”

“Because, I mean, I’d have no real reason to be mad about that--” 

“We didn’t fuck!” Mike considered asking Jay if he and Tom had fucked, prior to yesterday, and decided he didn’t want to know, because they were guys in their late thirties who were dating, of course they’d fucked. “She, just. Freaked me out, laughing and saying, uh. That she could grant a wish for me.” 

“A wish?” 

Jay’s teeth were chattering again. Mike beckoned him over, unwilling to let him sit there being cold if having Mike hold him would help. This time Jay approached more hesitantly, as if he was embarrassed by his coldness condition. He let Mike slip an arm around him and melted against Mike’s side after a moment, sliding his hand across Mike’s chest.

“Better?” Mike asked, not wanting to tell the rest of his story about yesterday. 

“Mhm,” Jay said, nodding. “So what did you wish for?” 

Mike groaned, winced. Jay was going to hate him, probably. But Mike probably deserved it.

“I, I dunno. She was sorta taunting me, saying Tom was going to fuck you--”

“Wait, what?” Jay stiffened against Mike’s side and scowled. “How the hell would she know? Who was this person?”

“I dunno, some weirdo friend of Plinkett’s! She really freaked me out, Jay. And, uh. I feel like, she. Maybe, sorta. Said she could grant me the wish of, like. Having you. For myself. Like this, like now.” 

Mike gave Jay a little squeeze, to demonstrate. 

Jay was staring at Mike, frowning. Then he sputtered with laughter.

“Uh, okay,” he said, patting Mike’s chest. “So you’re telling me I started jerking off to thoughts about you when I was in my early twenties because some woman in a bar granted a wish you made-- Yesterday?” 

“That’s, uh. My concern, yes. I know it sounds stupid--”

“Mike, what the hell?” Jay pulled back a little, searching Mike’s face. “If you’re regretting last night, just say so.” 

“No! I’m not, I’m really not, it’s just, that happened at the bar, and then suddenly you were in my bed. I just-- I don’t want to do anything evil to you, Jay. That’s all.” 

“It’s starting to sound like you have some kind of hang-up about gay sex being evil, Mike.”

“Oh my god! No! I don’t--”

“Well. I wouldn’t think so, but that’s the only way I can make sense of whatever the hell you’re saying.” 

Jay pulled out of Mike’s arms and stepped away from him. He looked sad, also already a little cold, shoulders lifting. 

“Jay, please,” Mike said, leaping out of his chair. He put his hands on Jay’s shoulders, both unable to believe that he was screwing this up already and also not surprised at all at his ability to tank things instantly with the one person he wanted more than anyone. Like: naturally, of course. “Maybe just tell me about your first memory of wanting me,” Mike said. “Maybe that’ll make me feel better.”

“Why don’t you tell me about the first time you wanted me, to make _me_ feel better,” Jay said, glaring at him. “Because you’re kind of making me feel like shit with all this crazy crap.” 

“Fuck, sorry, you’re right, okay-- Um. The first time, let’s see. Uhh, it was years ago, and sort of a subconscious thing. I said something, and you looked up at me. You were standing right in front of me and I was looking down into your face, and I just thought, oh god, he’s so much smaller than me. And I like it, so much. And then I was like, what? Why? And I knew why. But didn’t want to know.”

“Why not?” Jay asked, still frowning. 

“I dunno, ‘cause you’re my best friend and co-worker, and also this was back when you were still pretending to want to fuck girls?”

“I wasn’t just pretending,” Jay said, nose wrinkling. He was also starting to grin a little: success! “I mean, I wanted to want to.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, then I started noticing all kinds of things I liked about you that had nothing to do with your personality or our friendship. I loved all that stuff, too, but I’d also be like, gee. I really like the way his eyes light up when he laughs. Or the way he blushes when I make fun of him. That kind of shit.” 

“Yeah,” Jay said. He looked placated. “I’m pretty sure for me it started when you picked up some girl in a bar. Like, you literally picked her up and held her, and you were both laughing like a couple of stupid drunks. I just stood there like, seething, hating you, because I was jealous, even though I would have killed you if you tried that with me in public.”

“But in private?” Mike said, waggling his eyebrows.

“We’re not entirely in private,” Jay said, but he was smiling a little, so Mike picked him up off the floor and held him. Jay was heavier than he looked and instantly bright red. “You asshole,” Jay said, but he let Mike kiss him and only squirmed a little in his grip. 

The rest of the work day passed as usual, except for the fact that Jay had dragged his chair over next to Mike’s so their shoulders could be pressed together while they spent the day bullshitting about movies and avoiding the subject of why exactly Jay couldn’t get warm unless he was touching some part of Mike. Jay didn’t seem bothered by it, and Mike wondered if he really was faking it, if this was some kind of advanced level of gay seduction that Mike was just out of the loop about.

“Uh-oh,” Jay said when they were getting ready to close up for the day. He was looking at his phone. “Tom texted me. Guess I gotta break the news now. Should I call or text?”

“How long had you guys been dating?” Mike asked, not really wanting to know.

“About, hmm. Five weeks?”

“Jesus. You’d better call.” 

Mike had never expected to feel bad for that guy, but suddenly he had so much sympathy for him that his stomach was starting to knot up. There was no way Mike caused this with his wish. Jay was so clear-eyed when he explained his long history of wanting Mike. But Mike still felt like a villain when he watched Jay dialling Tom’s number. 

“Better go back there,” Mike said, pointing to the back room. “For privacy.”

Jay sighed and got up. Mike had told him to go into the other room because he didn’t want to have to bear witness to this phone call, but as soon as Jay was out of sight, Mike was straining to hear Jay’s side of the conversation, unable to help himself. 

“Hey,” Jay said when Tom answered. “Got your message, um. Look, I gotta tell you something, and I feel real bad about it.” 

There was a pause. Mike waited to feel even a little good about this. Yesterday it would have been his dearest wish-- Literally, it was, out loud. But he felt like throwing up, because something was still off. 

“Yeah,” Jay said, with glum apology, as if Tom had asked if Jay was about to break up with him. “Sorry, just. I told you I have this weird relationship with my best friend, and, uh, I wasn’t entirely honest about why. Part of the reason is that I’ve had feelings for him for a long time, and you saw how he acted yesterday when he met you. I confronted him about it, and, um. I guess he has feelings for me too, so. We sorta, you know. Got together, finally. I’m really sorry, Tom. It’s just bad timing, um. For you. Is all.”

There was a long silence after that. Mike began to worry that Tom had hung up on Jay and that Jay was pouting about it in the back room, having second thoughts about dumping him. 

“I mean, yeah,” Jay said, speaking more quietly. “But, like. It’s complicated.” 

Mike leaned toward the back room, straining to hear more. 

“I know what I said.” Jay was louder now, and sounded a little pissed off. “But I was just angry about something that he-- No, c’mon. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Yeah, okay, great. Good luck to you, too.”

Jay cursed under his breath after ending the call. He came into the doorway and hesitated to cross the room to Mike, though he was obviously cold, arms hugged around himself. 

“Well, that sucked,” Jay said. “But at least it didn’t get dragged out.” 

“Maybe you guys can still be friends.” Mike had no idea why he’d said that. He never wanted to see Tom again. 

“I doubt it,” Jay muttered. “He was pretty mad.”

“How come? ‘Cause you left him for me, after I was a dick to him?”

“Yeah, and--” Jay shook his head. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Jesus, I’m ready for a beer. You?”

“Yep.” Mike stood up and went over to give Jay a hug. It was a little awkward, and Jay snickered. He was pink-cheeked when he looked up at Mike, his arms winding around Mike’s back. “Still feeling cold?” Mike asked, unable to get it off his mind. 

Jay shrugged, which meant yes. 

“I could blow you before we go to the bar,” Jay said. 

“Um.” Mike glanced at the back room. He wanted that, very much: Jay on his knees with Mike’s cock in his mouth right after he broke up with that inferior guy. But even wanting it felt weird, like the rest of this, and Mike kept thinking he could hear that Lucy woman’s wicked laughter somewhere in the back of his mind. “Later,” Mike said, giving Jay a chaste little kiss on his forehead and hoping like hell he wasn’t compromised in any way by Mike’s fuckery. “Let’s go get drunk,” Mike said, tugging him toward the door. “We almost worked a full shift today, we deserve it.”

Outside, Jay started to cross the street toward their usual bar after Mike locked up. Mike grabbed Jay’s arm and stopped him, his heart lurching at the idea of Lucy leering at them from that table in back, winking evilly when Mike met her eye. 

“Let’s go to a gay bar,” Mike said. “Someplace where we can make out.”

“I don’t really like making out at bars,” Jay said. “Even gay ones.”

“We don’t have to make out, but-- Please? I want to try something new.”

“Mike, the only gay bar in this part of the city is like twenty minutes away, and we’d have to wait for the bus. The regular bar is right there.” Jay pointed helpfully, eyebrows lifting. “Are you afraid?” he asked. “Because of your weird experience yesterday?”

“No,” Mike said. His face was getting red, giving him away.

“C’mon,” Jay said, tugging at Mike’s arm. “It’ll be fine. It’ll be good for you, actually, to show you everything’s normal. You know?”

Mike didn’t know. He felt uncertain of everything, but sighed and let Jay pull him across the street and into the bar. 

**


	3. Chapter 3

The bar was dimly lit as usual, and Mike’s heart was pounding as he scanned the room, eyes still adjusting. Jay sauntered over to the bar and ordered two pints of the cheapest beer on draft, also as usual. Mike sat next to him, cautious and checking the shadowy corners of the place for any sign of Lucy or Plinkett. The only people present were a few old guys he’d seen in there hundreds of times, leaning over their drinks and staring sulkily up at the ball game on the TV behind the bar. 

“See?” Jay said, clapping Mike on the back when they had their drinks. “Everything’s fine.” 

“Hey,” Mike said to the bartender, who was the same guy who’d been there the night before. “There was a redhead in here last night, a woman. You know anything about her?”

“No,” the bartender said. “And I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”

“Why the hell not?” 

“I’m not helping you stalk my customers, Mike.” 

“I’m not stalking shit! She was the one harassing me!”

“Sure, pal.”

“Can you really not just forget about it?” Jay asked, looking distressed when Mike glanced over at him. Jay’s hand was on Mike’s leg, under the bartop. 

“Fine,” Mike said. “Just, um.” He leaned over to put his mouth against Jay’s ear when the bartender had his back turned. “It just seems too good to be true, is all. I never thought I’d get to be with you like this.”

“Aww.” Jay grinned and squeezed Mike’s leg. “Just don’t lose your mind over it, okay? I’m sick of hearing about this woman.” 

“Sorry, I’ll stop.”

Mike gulped from his beer, keeping one corner of his eye on the door. He wouldn’t feel okay until they were back at his place, in bed. He made a mental note to buy lube on the way there and tried not to think about Jay bouncing on his dick and telling him how good it felt inside him, not wanting to pop a boner at the bar. He was already a little turned on by the way Jay was gripping at his leg, though it also kept the fact that Jay was doing so to stop the phantom coldness from closing around him planted too firmly in his mind. 

When someone entered the bar, Mike turned in a panic, thinking for a moment that it was Plinkett. He let out his breath in relief when he saw it was just some random schlub in a White Sox hat. 

“Another round?” Jay asked, leaning close so Mike could smell the beer on his breath. 

“You’re having a third beer?” Mike said, surprised. “I thought those days were behind you?” 

Mike didn’t care, was even glad, but Jay had made some kind of vow about drinking less so he could stay in good shape, and it seemed a little out of character for him to toss that, suddenly. 

“It’s fine for tonight,” Jay said, shrugging one shoulder. “We’re celebrating, right?”

“Right,” Mike said. He grinned and swooned in close like he might be going for a kiss. Jay seemed almost amenable, rubbing Mike’s leg under the bartop and smiling back at him.

“Look at you,” the guy in the White Sox hat said. He was standing behind them, and Mike jumped when he turned and saw how close he was. “Like a pig in shit,” he said, shaking his head and glaring at Mike. 

“The fuck are you looking at, asshole?” Mike asked. Maybe this guy was trying to pick a fight because he’d seen Jay touching Mike’s leg and was some kind of violent homophobe. Mike wasn’t worried. The guy was fat and middle-aged, and Mike could take him easily, especially with Jay’s help.

“What am I looking at?” the guy spat back, scoffing. “You tell me, Mike. From where I’m standing it looks like a couple of soulless bodies performing a sick pantomime.”

“How do you know my name?” Mike asked, alarmed.

“I know everything about you. Unfortunately.”

“Get lost,” Jay said. “Weirdo.”

“Oh, Jay,” the guy said, his angry expression morphing into something sad and pitying. “You poor thing. What has he done to you?”

“Who-- What?” Jay looked at Mike. “Do you know this guy?”

“Fuck no,” Mike said. “Get outta here, man, unless you’re looking for a fight.”

“I am looking for one,” the guy said. “Just afraid it’s a losing battle. I’ve never been more ashamed of you, Mike. This is too goddamn low, even for you!”

“Who the hell are you?” Mike asked, roaring this and standing. He enjoyed the fact that Jay stood, too, like he was ready to have Mike’s back in the forthcoming fistfight.

“Take it outside!” the bartender shouted. 

“Yeah, good idea,” the guy said. “Mike, come with me, and bring your human body pillow.” 

“Fuck you!” Mike shoved the guy’s shoulder, hard. He didn’t budge. “You sure you want to fight me, man? ‘Cause I’m giving you just one more chance to just walk out of here without getting your ass kicked.”

“Would love to see you try,” the guy said, smirking a little. He sighed. “Follow me, you two. I can’t let this go on any longer.”

“What the fuck is your problem, man?” Mike asked, stomping out after the guy, who strolled out of the bar like he wasn’t intimidated by Mike at all, though anyone who glanced at the two of them could see who was going to win this fight. Mike was already shrugging his jacket off, ready to throw a punch.

“My problem, Mike,” he said, turning back to him once they were outside, “Is that.” 

The guy pointed at Jay, who was standing near the bar’s front door and looking both confused and angry on Mike’s behalf.

“Me?” Jay said.

“My problem is that it’s _not_ you,” the guy said, still speaking to Jay. “Not anymore, thanks to this asshole.”

He looked at Mike again, pointing. Mike couldn’t wait any longer. He punched the guy in the face.

At least, he tried to. Rather than connect with the guy’s face, Mike’s fist smashed into what felt like an invisible brick wall that had suddenly materialized between them.

“OW, FUCK!!”

Mike hissed and spun around, doubling over in pain and shaking his throbbing fist. 

“Yeah, you can’t hurt me,” the guy said calmly. “I’m your guardian angel, moron.” 

“You psycho!” Jay said, hurrying over to Mike. “What’d you-- How’d you do that?”

“I just told you, I’m his guardian angel. Name’s Rich. We don’t usually introduce ourselves to the people we’re assigned to watch out for, but he fucked up so bad this time that I couldn’t see any alternative.” 

“You’re dead,” Mike said, and he tried again to hit Rich in the face.

He got the same result, screaming in agony when his fist slammed into some kind of invisible, rock hard force field.

Rich sighed.

“Are you done?” he asked. “‘Cause we need to talk about this.” He gestured to Jay, making a queasy face. “It’s not going to be easy to fix.” 

“What the fuck?” Mike said. Tears had sprung into the corners of his eyes, from the physical pain of smashing his fist into Rich’s magical forcefield and also because he was beginning to understand what was going on here, and that it was real, real bad.

“Mike, you know what you did,” Rich said. “At least you feel guilty about it. That’s a start. Though guilt didn’t stop you from copulating with the shell of the person whose soul you hand-delivered to hell.” 

“Copulating?” Jay said, making a grossed-out face. “What are you talking about?”

“You!” Rich shouted at Jay. “By which I mean the person who was occupying your body before this asshole ripped him out and pitched him into the arms of Satan for his own sick pleasure. You’re in big trouble, buddy. Or anyway, the soul that’s supposed to be stuck in that there body is.”

“What are you saying?” Mike could feel the blood leaving his cheeks. This couldn’t be happening. Nope, no, he wouldn’t let it. “This is the real Jay,” Mike said, pointing a shaking finger at him. “I mean. Right?”

“Yes!” Jay said, giving Mike a furious look. “Of course it’s me! Who the hell else would I be?”

“That’s his body,” Rich said, flipping a dismissive hand in Jay’s direction. “And a manipulated collection of memory and sensation designed to suit your every desire. Meanwhile, his actual soul is locked up somewhere in the bowels of Hell, because otherwise it might get in the way of giving you everything you want. Great job, Mike.”

“Um, no,” Jay said. “I think I’d know if that were true.”

“Actually, you wouldn’t, ‘cause you’re not really him.”

Mike thought about this for a second, then turned around and threw up. 

“Jesus!” Jay said. “Mike, hey. It’s okay--”

“It’s not okay,” Rich said chirpily. “He _should_ be throwing up, disgusted with himself. There you go, yeah, get it all up. But don’t despair, at least not yet. There may be a way to save him. Possibly.”

Mike dry heaved a few times before managing to stand. His legs were shaking and he felt like his knees were going to buckle. Jay was at his side, rubbing his back, only-- He wasn’t, was he? As soon as Rich said it out loud, Mike felt the truth of it. Those were Jay’s sweet eyes staring up at him with concern, Jay’s little hand stroking over his back, but it wasn’t Jay, not entirely. Mike’s stomach lurched again, but there was nothing left in him to barf up.

“Oh god!” he said, his voice wrecked from puking, also because he was about to start sobbing in consuming, horrified grief. “Jay. Shit, fuck! I’m, I’m so--”

“Don’t apologize to that one,” Rich said. “He’s not in there, Mike. And guess what? If you want to get him back, you’re gonna have to go through Hell, literally, somehow get your own fucking soul back, and then maybe, maaaaaybe he’ll still be intact by the time you find him.”

“Shut up!” Jay shouted at Rich. “You’re crazy, man. Leave us alone! Mike,” he said, turning back to him. “What the hell? He’s just some lunatic. Don’t listen to him.”

“Hey, Jay,” Rich said. “Do me a favor, if you want to prove you’re the real deal. What’s your mother’s first name?”

“Huh?” Jay glowered at Rich. “Shut up. Don’t talk to me.” 

“Tell him,” Rich said, pointing to Mike. “Shouldn’t be a hard question. Mother’s first name. Or, hell, your father’s! Either way.” 

Rich scoffed when Jay said nothing. Jay just stood there looking lost, also upset. 

“He doesn’t know, Mike,” Rich said. “Because the names of Jay’s parents have nothing to do with him wanting to fuck you, which is all there is left of him in that body.” 

“You’re crazy!” Jay swallowed and glanced up at Mike. He looked nervous. “Of course I know my parents’ names. Let’s get out of here, please?”

“What are they,” Mike asked. His voice came out flat and hollow.

“You know!” Jay said. “You’ve met my parents, um. Right?”

Mike shook his head. He’d met Jay’s mother once, years ago, but not his dad. Regardless, Jay was his best friend, and Mike knew his parents’ names. 

And Jay, or whatever scraps of Jay stood before Mike, apparently didn’t. 

“It’s not you,” Mike said, eyes wide, stepping away from him. “You don’t know their names, oh my god, you don’t know, you’re not him--”

“Mike,” Jay said, voice breaking. He looked panicked, terrified. “Where are you going? Please don’t go. Mike? I need you, please, come back--”

“He’s not wrong about that!” Rich shouted when Mike turned and bolted, running away as fast as he could from this nightmare. “Mike! Hey! Wait!”

Mike didn’t listen. He couldn’t take this, it was too awful. And all his fault. He ran along the side of the road, tempted to throw himself in front of a bus. 

He was a monster. Not just morally dubious but a complete fiend. He felt the weight of his own soullessness as he came to a heaving halt on a bus stop bench, his lungs burning. He hadn’t run that far in years. He was soaked in sweat, feeling like he was going to puke again.

“You forgot this,” Rich said, materializing out of thin air with Jay at his side. 

Mike screamed.

“Mike!” Jay said, dropping to his knees in front of the bench. He threw his arms around Mike’s legs and hugged him, hiding his face against Mike’s knee. “Please, please, don’t leave me, you were gone, don’t do that, oh god, I was so cold--” 

“You’d better look after him if you want to have something to put his soul back into,” Rich said, pointing down at Jay. “Don’t let him out of your sight! She put a curse on his body when she scooped out his soul. He’ll literally freeze to death if you don’t, uh. Tend to him.” Rich shuddered. “She’s a real sick fuck, you’ll find.”

“She?” Mike said. He put his hands on Jay’s head and stroked his hair, wishing it was really him and willing to comfort this part of him in the meantime, if that was all he could do. “Lucy, you mean?”

“Uh-huh. Also known as Satan. Congratulations! The devil doesn’t pop up to Earth for just anyone. She must have knew you were a sure bet.”

“Well, where the hell were you!” Mike shouted, wanting to turn this around on Rich. “Not guarding me, seems like!”

“I’m just a liiiiiitle less powerful than the Prince of Darkness, Mike. There was nothing I could do, and after you sold your soul I was floating in a vast ocean of nothingness until I managed to piece together a human form.” Rich looked down at himself. “Not bad for a first try, I’d say!”

“So,” Mike said, looking down at Jay, who was still hiding his face and holding on tight to Mike’s legs. “That stuff he said. About wanting me for a long time. It was a lie?”

“No!” Jay said, looking up at Mike, stricken. “It’s true, it’s real! Mike, it’s me! Please, believe me!”

“Don’t believe him,” Rich said, shaking his head. 

“Fuck you,” Jay said weakly. He moaned and put his head down again, whimpering like a lost puppy when Mike stroked his hair. 

“Look, I’m not his angel,” Rich said with a shrug. “That poor schmuck’s got his work cut out for him, wherever he is. I have no idea what the actual Jay feels for you in his soul, or doesn’t. All I know is that this one is telling you what you want to hear.”

“So what do I do to fix this,” Mike asked. He wanted to pick Jay up and hold him in his lap, but they were making enough of a scene as it was, and also this wasn’t actually Jay. “I’ll do anything,” Mike said, looking up at Rich. He meant it, for as much as someone who’d sold their soul could mean anything. 

“Well, you don’t exactly have a ton of options, Mike. She’s got your soul already, and without it you’ll never get anywhere near his down there. And I can’t go with you, so we’re gonna have to figure it out topside before I send you through the portal.”

“Oh god,” Mike said. “Portal?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ve got to think about this a little, and in the meantime I’m freakin’ starving. I’ve never had a body before. It’s wild!”

Mike just stared at him, deadpan. Jay sniffled against Mike’s legs and clung tighter.

“Get him off the ground,” Rich said, gesturing to Jay. “You got deep dish pizza around here?”

They did, and Mike and Jay sat across from Rich at a booth at the nearest place that served deep dish, Mike miserably watching the two of them devour a large with extra cheese. 

“You’re not hungry?” Jay asked, chewing. He was sitting close to Mike, their thighs touching on the seat.

“I can’t eat right now,” Mike said. Even the smell of the pizza was turning his stomach. 

Mike eyed Jay as he helped himself to another huge wedge of pizza, wondering if he should mention that the real Jay would be pissed as fuck if he got his body back and found out that his soulless self had made him gain ten pounds.

“Don’t look at him like that,” Rich snapped. “Let him enjoy himself, for fuck’s sake. It’s not his fault.” 

“I know it’s my fault,” Mike said sharply, turning to watch Rich wipe marinara sauce off his cheek. “So are you going to tell me what to do, or just stuff yourself?”

“I told you, this is complicated and I’m still working out the details of the resolution. None of the other angels will consult with me about it since you screwed up so bad. They blame me!”

“Maybe they should,” Mike said. “I could have used your help. She had me tripping, man! I barely knew what I was doing.” 

“All she had to do was suggest that somebody else might be fucking the ass you coveted,” Rich said, shaking his head. “And that was worth your mortal soul. Forshame, Mike.”

“Great fuckin’ analysis, you Monday morning quarterback! And it wasn’t just his-- I mean, obviously I don’t just want his ass! I love him.”

Mike looked over at Jay sadly. Jay smiled a little and leaned closer, patting Mike’s hand under the table.

“Do you, Mike?” Rich asked, eyes narrowed.

“Yes! It’s making me lose my mind, that’s all. But I’d die for him.”

“Please don’t,” Jay said. “I really do love you. The real me, I mean. I wouldn’t want you dying for me.”

“Is that true?” Mike asked, glancing at Rich.

“How the hell should I know?” Rich barked. “And for that matter, how should he?” He gestured at soul-free Jay. “He just wants to make you feel better.”

“No, I don’t!” Jay glared at Rich. “It’s true. I can feel it.” 

“You can’t feel shit,” Rich muttered. 

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Mike snapped. “He’s still a person. Or, you know. Part of one. And he’s my responsibility. I’ll take care of you,” he said, turning to Jay. “Don’t worry. I’ll fix everything.”

“I know,” Jay said, swooning toward him with an adoring smile. 

Mike couldn’t believe he was fooled by this before. The real Jay would never look at him like this. If Mike was even able to get him back, he’d be lucky to get a parting kick in the balls from Jay for his trouble. 

“Pssh,” Rich said. “You don’t know anything, kids. So don’t get cocky! Even getting Mike’s soul back is gonna be a Herculean task, never mind Jay’s.”

“Is Jay’s more closely guarded or something?”

“Yeah, because he didn’t surrender it himself. So it’s pure. The devil feeds on stolen purity.” 

“Is she hurting him?” Mike asked, sure for a moment that he was going to barf all over the table and the remains of the pizza. 

“Dunno,” Rich said, looking glum. “But we’re talking about the devil here, so. Probably?”

“Ugh!” Mike pounded the table with both fists. “Let’s go, then! I’m ready to do battle.”

“You sure as shit are not! We’ve got to do some legwork up here before you’re ready to face what’s waiting for you down there.”

“Okay, like what? Just tell me and I’ll do it!”

“I need to do some research first.” Rich threw a balled-up napkin on to the table. “You take care of him in the meantime. Don’t let him out of your sight.” 

“You’re leaving?” Mike said when Rich hoisted himself out of the booth with a grunt. 

“Yes, but I’ll be around if you need me. I gotta look into a few things.”

“What things? Where?”

“Never mind!” Rich said, giving Mike a surly look. “Just get the reclamation of your soul off to a good start by doing as I say, okay? Take good care of your little charge there.”

Mike looked over at Jay as Rich ambled off. Jay was giving Mike a pathetic, needful stare. He was also holding Mike’s hand under the table.

“Sorry,” Jay said, softly. “I don’t really understand what’s happening, but. I wish I could fix it for you.” 

“Aw.” Mike winced. This was going to kill him, but the agony of it was no less than what he deserved. He touched Jay’s face and brushed his knuckles over Jay’s lips. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. It’s me who screwed up. Fuck, I shouldn’t be allowed to touch you.”

“But I need you to!” Jay said, grabbing Mike’s arm. “Please, you heard him. I’ll die if you don’t take care of me.”

“Did he mean-- Like--?”

“Yes,” Jay said hotly, breathing a little harder. “Like that. It’s built into the bones of this body, trust me. It’s all I can feel because it’s what’s left of me in here. The real Jay wants you, bad.” 

“Ngh--” Mike screwed up his face and leaned back a little. “I don’t know. That sounds like something a demon would say.”

“I’m not a demon!” 

Jay looked like he would cry. Mike was ashamed of how adorable and arousing he found this, despite everything.

“I know, I know,” Mike said, though he wasn’t sure he did. “But, like, maybe a demon is speaking through you? Sorta? God, can we just get out of here? I need to not be smelling that pizza right now.”

“Oh, sorry.” Jay covered his mouth with his hand, as if Mike had accused him of having bad breath. 

“Let’s go back to your place,” Mike said, pulling him out of the booth by the hand. “Maybe that will be, like. A comfort to you, or something.”

It started raining when they were in transit, and was cold enough out that by the time they were jogging through it toward Jay’s apartment it had turned into partial sleet. Mike felt as cold as Jay looked when they walked into his place. 

“Take those wet clothes off,” Mike said when Jay tried to hug him, still soaked. “And, uh. Go take a hot shower.”

“Come with me,” Jay said, dropping his wet jacket on the floor. The real Jay would never! Mike was astounded and a little freaked out by how clean and tidy Jay’s place was. He’d noticed this before but had never really appreciated it as something he secretly loved about Jay, even while he also found it annoying and gave Jay a hard time about it.

“Man, I don’t know,” Mike said when Jay tugged at his arm, shivering in his jeans and work shirt. He looked fucking pitiful, soaking wet and desperate, and like he needed Mike to manhandle him real bad. 

“Well, I do know,” Jay said, frowning. His petulance was cute, also pretty in character. “The water in the shower will feel like ice if you’re not in there with me.”

“That’s fucked up,” Mike said, but he was already unbuttoning his wet shirt, relenting. 

As soon as they were under the hot water in the shower together they were both hard. Mike did his best to ignore his own erection even as Jay rubbed his against Mike’s leg shamelessly, clinging to him. Jay seemed deliriously happy like that, naked and plastered to Mike while the water beat against them and steamed up the air. He was even humming under his breath a little, periodically lifting his face to give Mike seductive looks and straining up to try to kiss him. Mike let him do it and only kissed back a little, wanting more and reminding himself that he didn’t deserve it.

“The real Jay would be horrified by your behavior,” Mike said, trying not to love this one a little, too. He wasn’t the same, but he was so fucking cute.

“Listen,” Jay said, “I know a thing or two about being Jay myself.”

“Rich says you don’t.” 

“Fuck Rich. I’m not some stranger who got poured into his body, I _am_ his body, and let me tell you. His soul is prickly and difficult, to put it politely. It’s more of an impediment to his happiness than anything.” 

“Huh?”

“He’s a stubborn little shit who denies himself a lot of things. He’s thirty-eight years old and he didn’t even have a boyfriend until five weeks ago!” 

“Well. Yeah. Why not, do you think?”

“Because he’s a coward, also because he wants you and thinks you’ll break his heart.”

Mike scoffed. “Jay doesn’t think that. You’re making this up, like you made up his love confessions.” 

“They’re not made up. I mean, I said them, yeah, but I do have access to some of his memories and feelings, obviously. The relevant ones.” 

Jay leaned up onto his toes and pressed his lips to Mike’s. He took Mike’s bottom lip between his teeth, maintaining eye contact while he bit down on it a little, then a little more, just enough to hurt. 

“Ow,” Mike said when Jay released his lip and lowered back down onto his heels. Mike was disturbed by how hot that was, and tried not to think about it. Avoiding the thought was rather difficult with his cock pressed against Jay’s belly. “Don’t go feral on me.” 

“You’d love it if I did,” Jay said. 

“No, I wouldn’t. Fuck you. Stop acting like him.” 

Jay rolled his eyes. “I am a pretty significant portion of him. Angels probably put too much emphasis on souls.” 

“Bitch, what? Don’t you even feel panicked about the other half of yourself being trapped in Hell?”

“Eh,” Jay said. “I guess. But I feel like a big weight has lifted. Don’t lie. You feel the same.”

“What weight, my soul? Yeah, it feels pretty shitty!”

“Yeah, right. You had fun without a soul last night, seemed like.” 

“You are a demon,” Mike said, narrowing his eyes. He was still very hard for this Jay who was wet and warm against him, squirming in his arms. 

“Nah,” Jay said. “I’m just, uh. His base instincts. Which you really, really appeal to. And he doesn’t like that, you know how he is. He doesn’t like it when things are out of his control. He thinks you’d chew him up and spit him out.” 

“I don’t think I can trust you on that.” 

“Can you trust me to suck your dick?”

“Stop asking to suck my dick! Jesus, you can’t just use his body for your gratification.”

“I am his body, I told you! Rich told you, too. I know what Jay wants better than he does. Physically, anyway.”

“You’re making me dizzy with this shit, man, you gotta cut it out.”

“I can’t! You need to tend to me, remember. Even your angel said so.” 

“Oh god.” Mike closed his eyes and tipped his head back, groaned. “This is too messed up.”

“Yeah, and it’s your fault. Don’t take it out on me!” 

Mike considered calling out for Rich for a consultation, but he didn’t want that guy showing up and seeing him and Jay naked together in the shower. He also didn’t want to be manipulated by a sex demon, or whatever Jay’s soul-free body counted as. Nor did he want to compromise Jay’s body’s safety by not giving him what he needed. He imagined Jay torturing him to death for this when he was restored to himself, and didn’t entirely dislike the idea. 

“I’m really confused,” Mike said, looking down at Jay. 

“Me too,” Jay said. He leaned up to give Mike a kiss on the lips: sweet and soft, he soothed his tongue over the sore spot where he’d bitten Mike before. “Your stomach is growling,” he said when he pulled back.

“I guess I’m getting my appetite back,” Mike muttered. 

“Hmm,” Jay said, giving Mike a wicked smile. 

“No,” Mike said. “I'm not hungry for that.” This wasn't technically true, though now that he knew why he wasn't sure he'd be able to stomach the frosting-sweet taste of Jay's come.

“Fine,” Jay said, his nose twitching adorably. “Do you want to eat something real, though? I’m hungry again.”

“Why are you always hungry?”

“I don’t know, maybe he’s been starving himself for food same as he has for sex with you.” 

“Did he fuck Tom?” Mike asked, eyes narrowing.

Jay chewed his lip, shrugged.

“Come on,” Mike said, poking him in the belly. “You know. Tell me.”

“He didn’t fuck Tom, but Tom fucked him.”

“Ugh. God! I bet you’re gonna tell me he didn’t like it, because you always tell me what I want to hear.”

“No! If that were true, I would have lied about Tom fucking him. He liked it, but didn’t love it. Tom wasn’t the best he’s had.”

“He’s had other guys?” Mike said, heart sinking.

“Yes, of course. But he still jerks off to you.” 

“Just get out,” Mike said, turning off the water.

Jay looked crestfallen, also a little scared.

“I meant out of the shower!” Mike said, pointing. “I’m not going to abandon you again. No matter what. You’re an important part of him, and. I love you, too, okay? His-- This.” Mike gestured generally to Jay’s body, tracing the shape of him with his hands. “So don’t worry.”

When Jay gave Mike a timid smile there was something too real about the light in his eyes, like suddenly his soul was back in there.

“Okay,” Jay said, speaking softly. “And, for whatever it’s worth, his body really loves yours.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that. C’mon.”

In honor of the real Jay, Mike made a low fat meal for dinner: baked chicken with rice. Jay didn’t complain, just sat next to Mike on the sofa obediently, pressed against him while they ate out of plates in their laps and watched a movie the real Jay loved: _Gremlins 2_. It made Mike homesick for him. The Jay beside him on the couch didn’t laugh that much while they watched it or make inane comments about the character actors and their roles in other movies. 

“God,” Mike said, thinking out loud. “It’s like his soul is everything that annoys and confuses me about him.”

“Exactly,” Jay said, leaning onto Mike’s chest and touching him there. 

“But it’s all the best stuff, somehow, too.”

“Oh.” 

“Aw, don’t take it personally.” Mike leaned over to kiss Jay’s face. “I think you’re all twisted up with who he really is, too. I can feel it, you’re him. You just got your memories ripped out. And your weirdness and obsessions and hesitations and-- We’re gonna fix it, though.”

Jay said nothing, just rested his cheek on Mike’s chest and sighed. 

Later, in Jay’s bed, Mike couldn’t sleep. Jay was dozing peacefully in his arms, and tracking the gentle rise and fall of his breath had a calming effect on Mike, but he still couldn’t turn his mind off long enough to get anywhere close to rest. He was also hard against Jay’s hip under the blankets, which was annoying. The smell of Jay was all over these sheets, even more potent somehow than Jay’s body in his arms. Because the sheets still held the smell of Jay’s soul, Mike thought, near tears.

When he finally did drift off briefly at dawn he had a horrid dream about Jay in a cage at a pet store, his mouth sewn shut and everyone in the shop acting like Mike was crazy for insisting that Jay was a person, not a pet, and that they should release Jay into Mike’s custody despite the fact that he cost three hundred dollars and Mike had only three bucks in his wallet.

“What’s wrong?” Jay asked when he woke up to find Mike sobbing pathetically into his hands.

“I had a fucked up dream,” Mike said, his voice barely working. “And I’m worried about him. I should fucking die for doing this to him.” 

“No, no,” Jay said, hugging him, his chin on Mike’s shoulder. “You didn’t mean to. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! Jesus Christ.”

Later that morning there was a knock on Jay’s apartment door while Mike was miserably making some scrambled eggs for the two of them. Jay was wrapped around Mike’s back like a monkey, his arms circling Mike’s chest so he could keep warm while Mike did the cooking.

“Can you get that?” Mike asked. 

Jay detached from Mike with a sigh and went to answer the door. Mike was expecting Rich, or maybe even Lucy, but it was Tom. 

“I’m here to get my stuff,” Tom said. 

“Stuff?” Jay said. 

“You have my sweater, that nice one I lent you at the hockey game. And some of my DVDs.”

“You took him to a _hockey game_?” Mike said, turning to give Tom a disbelieving look from the stove. 

Tom just glared at him. Mike actually felt kind of bad, and turned back to his eggs. 

“Uh, c’mon in,” Jay said, stepping out of the way. “I don’t know where your sweater is, but I guess you can look around.” 

Jay hurried over to Mike while Tom poked around the small living room, then the bedroom closet. When Tom emerged with the sweater and a T-shirt, Jay had his hand on Mike’s waist.

“You could maybe not be canoodling for the two seconds while I’m here,” Tom said.

“Oh, um.” Jay pulled his hand away and gave Mike a look, like he wanted help explaining the situation. “Sorry.” 

“It’s a long story, buddy,” Mike said. “Get your DVDs and go.” 

“You’re so self destructive,” Tom said, shaking his head. 

“Me?” Jay said. 

“Yes, you. What the hell are you doing? He’s awful to you.”

“Hey!” Mike snapped. “Stay out of it!”

“Sure thing,” Tom said, bending down to examine the DVDs that were stacked near Jay’s TV. “But two days ago Jay was calling you a manchild and saying he felt sorry for you, so. Not really sure where this came from.”

“Is that true?” Mike asked, boggling at Jay.

“Ehhh,” Jay said, shoulders lifting. “I was just mad at you! Don’t take it personally,” he added, a little coldly, Mike thought.

“Your whole life has stagnated because of this buffoon’s influence,” Tom said. “I thought you were going to quit the repair shop and try to finally follow your dreams. Now you’re doing-- This?” 

He gestured rudely in their direction. Jay had started shaking from the cold. Mike moved toward him, wanting Jay to touch him and get warm. 

“He wasn’t going to quit,” Mike said, wanting to believe this. “Maybe he said so, but he was just plying you with bullshit, stringing you along. Me and Jay belong together. You wouldn’t understand.”

“He’s already speaking for you,” Tom said, shaking his head. 

“Look, just get your stuff and go!” Jay said. He was red-faced, again seeming suddenly too real, like his actual self. “It’s complicated, and you don’t have all the information.”

“I’ve seen it before,” Tom said. He bent down and grabbed some DVDs. “You were his best friend before you came out, pining for him, and now that you’re finally acting like a grown-up and finding yourself, you can’t bear to leave him behind. It’s sad.”

“You’re sad!” Mike snapped. “Get outta here!”

“I’m going,” Tom said, hugging all the crap he’d collected to his chest. “But, Jay. I really care about you, okay? I hope you’re right that he does, too, but. I don’t know. Good luck.”

Mike thought of shouting some insults at Tom as he went for the door, but ultimately couldn’t find his voice. He felt like someone had just stepped on his throat. 

“Well, that was awkward,” Jay said. He grabbed for Mike as soon as Tom was gone, squeezing his shivery body against Mike’s back. 

Mike just grunted.

“Are you mad at me?” Jay asked in a little voice, nudging Mike’s shoulder with his nose.

“No,” Mike said. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not fooling myself that Jay will want to be with me when he’s himself again. He’ll hate me even more for fucking up his thing with that guy.” 

“I don’t think so,” Jay said. “He went to a hockey game for that guy. He was totally bored. Tom was way too normal for him, trust me.” 

“We both know I can’t trust you, but okay.”

Mike forced some eggs down while Jay sat in his lap at the kitchen table and ate off the same plate. When Rich materialized, Mike shouted in alarm but was glad to see him. He was ready to act, also ready to be miserably alone for rest of his life, as long as it meant Jay was okay and whole again.

“How’s it going?” Rich asked. 

“Bad,” Mike said. “What did you find out?”

“You’ll need to retrace your steps here on Earth, to find the point on the trail of your soul’s trajectory where you lost your way,” Rich said, taking a seat at the table. 

“The hell does that mean?”

“Well, since you lost your way by coveting Jay’s ass, you’ll go back to the significant events in your life that lead you to want him so bad that you were willing to throw your soul away to have him.”

“Jesus,” Mike said. 

Jay gave him a little squeeze, still seated in his lap.

“You’ll do great,” he said when Mike looked at him, heartsick.

“So where do I start?” Mike asked, turning back to Rich.

“At the Beef-A-Roo,” Rich said. “Of course.”

**


	4. Chapter 4

_Beef-A-Roo outside Rockton IL, 2001_

Mike was early and anxious, watching the parking lot from the booth he picked in the center of the restaurant, with a view of the door. He was eating fries, his foot bouncing under the table. He felt like he was buying drugs or on a blind date.

Right on time, almost eerily so, a guy on a bike pulled up and dismounted outside, wheeling the bike over to a metal pole to chain it up. He was skinny with spiky blond hair and clothes that were like ten sizes too big, also had an overbite that was visible from across the room when he walked inside and scanned the place. He looked startled when he saw Mike staring at him, like he hadn’t expected him to show. 

“Hey,” he said when he walked over. He held out his hand. “Mike?”

“Jay, I presume,” Mike said. He shook Jay’s hand and pushed the fries toward him when he sat down on the other side of the booth. “Want some?”

“Uh, no,” Jay said, in a way that made Mike feel stupid for offering. “So. Have you got the cash?” 

“You really get down to business, huh?” Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, then the four twenties he’d withdrawn from his already threadbare bank account. “Show me the goods,” he said, holding the money back when Jay reached for it.

Jay’s nose twitched. He was kind of cute up close, though his hair was awful and he looked like a biter. Mike wondered if he was a pillow biter. Mike’s attraction to guys was still a shiny novelty, like a toy left in its package, because he hadn’t done anything with it yet. 

“Here,” Jay said, lifting his backpack and unzipping it. He took out a VHS tape that was enclosed in a neon-green, translucent case. Jay had written _Tales from the Quadead Zone_ on the tape’s white label. He had sharp, precise handwriting, like a serial killer, which made Mike smirk when he took the tape and examined it. 

“How do I know it’ll even play?” Mike asked. “Or that it’s not just a shitty copy?”

Jay sighed. “We could go back to my place and watch it,” he said. “But it’s a twenty minute bike ride.”

“I have a car,” Mike said, pretty sure Jay was aware of this. 

“You think I’m getting in a car with you?”

“Why not?” 

Mike knew why not and was grinning, enjoying Jay’s angry squirming. He hadn’t expected Jay to be so-- Little, snarly, blond? He wasn’t sure what it was, or why it was such a pleasant surprise.

“I don’t know you,” Jay said. 

“Man, you’re paranoid. You won’t even eat my fries.” 

Jay looked down at them like this was a dare and sat up a little straighter. He took a fry and popped it in his mouth, then gave Mike a look like he should be impressed. 

Mike snorted. Jay smiled a little, chewing. 

“Fine, I’ll ride on the back of your bike,” Mike said. “Would that make you feel safe?”

“I’m not biking you all the way to my house. Look, you just have to trust me. It’s a good tape, the real thing.”

“How is it?” Mike asked, turning the case over in his hands.

“I just told you, it’s an original, but the image quality--”

“No, I mean the movie itself. You think it’s worth eighty bucks?”

“I’m not gonna say no, genius. I’m the one trying to sell it to you.” 

“But you look like the kind of guy who doesn’t lie easily.”

“What?” Jay laughed a little and flushed. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know, you have a kind of country boy innocence thing going on.” 

“Fuck you, I’m not even from here. God, everyone from Chicago thinks they’re hot shit, without fail. You don’t even live in the city, do you? It’s the suburbs, right? Big fucking deal.”

“Wow, calm down. I was trying to pay you a compliment.” 

“Bullshit. Anyway, yeah. It’s worth it. I actually, uh. Wouldn’t mind watching it with you, if you want to check out the quality before you buy it. It’s really fun to see someone watch it for the first time. And I’ve run out of people to show it to.” 

“People who are willing, anyway,” Mike said. 

“Huh?” 

“You could always like, kidnap people and strap them to a chair and make them watch it with you. That could be your serial killer M.O.” 

Jay grinned, and it hit Mike in a way that made him think: huh. When Mike smiled back he felt like he was agreeing to something that he would later regret, kicking over some wall within himself that he wouldn’t be able to rebuild, but he’d already done it and it kinda felt good.

**

“I can’t watch this,” Mike said, standing and staring at his child-self meeting Jay’s, his heart pounding and his eyes clouding over with angry, pitiful tears. He wanted to grab the little Jay who was sitting in that fast food booth and run away with him.

“Tough shit,” Rich said. “You have to.” 

“I think it’s romantic,” Jay said. “I remember this. I remember saying that I didn’t know you, and it felt like a lie already.”

“Oh god,” Mike said, wiping at his eyes. 

“Shut up and pay attention,” Rich said. “We’re looking for the point of entry, remember.”

**

They left the restaurant in Mike’s car, Jay’s bike in the backseat. Jay was a little jumpy in the passenger seat, but after a few minutes he was laughing and calmer, keeping an eye on Mike but not seeming to fear he was being kidnapped. Mike was sweating and trying not to imagine tying Jay up and getting bitten by him in the process. If Mike was a serial killer, Jay would be his type. Jay had some kind of powerful-yet-vulnerable energy that Mike wanted to smear his bloody hands all over.

Jay’s mother was home, which maybe explained why he felt safe allowing a stranger into his house, then into his bedroom. Jay shut the door behind them. He had a whole elaborate setup for movie viewing, multiple VCRs for editing and a nice camera that he showed off almost right away. 

Rich kid punk, Mike thought, though the house itself was out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. 

“You got some kind of sweet job that lets you afford all this shit?” Mike asked.

“No,” Jay said, avoiding Mike’s eyes. “My dad ditched us a long time ago and he feels guilty. He’s a pilot and he makes bank.” 

“Ah.”

“Also my stepdad tries to buy my affection. So.”

“Double lucky.” 

Mike smirked when Jay gave him an irritated look.

Jay’s TV was set up across from his bed. Jay sat there, and Mike sat on the floor beside it, his back to the adjacent dresser. It wasn’t comfortable. Jay didn’t invite Mike to sit on the bed with him, even though it was pretty big, at least a queen. 

The movie was insane and kind of amazing, and Jay laughed hard at Mike’s reactions, many of which were wild laughter. Mike’s stomach was sore from laughing by the end of it, not just because of the movie itself but because of Jay’s commentary. He was funny, which was the death blow. Mike wanted to be his friend more than he wanted to buy the movie and add it to his collection of weird, hard to find schlock. 

“Do you need to go?” Jay asked when the movie ended. “‘Cause I have another one-- I’m not willing to sell it, but it’s pretty fucking great, if you want to watch.” 

“I got nowhere to be,” Mike said. 

Jay grinned and sort of leapt off his bed to change the tape, his baggy pants nearly coming down in the process. 

Mike drove home a few hours later, when Jay got called for dinner, and only when he was nearly back in Oak Creek did he realize he’d forgotten to give Jay the money. It was okay, because Jay had forgotten to give him the tape. They’d exchanged phone numbers instead. 

When Mike got home he had an AIM message from Jay. They’d met on a collector’s forum and had been talking online a bit, mostly about this transaction. 

jayjayjayjay: I forgot to give you the fucking tape!!

MMhmmNo: Good thing I didn’t give you the money then. 

jayjayjayjay: next time, okay?

MMhmmNo: Yeah, sure. But why are you selling it? What do you need eighty bucks for?

It made no sense, because Jay seemed to have everything he wanted financially, between the guilty dad and the eager to please stepfather. 

jayjayjayjay: I dunno  
jayjayjayjay: who couldn’t use 80 bucks?  
jayjayjayjay: also I could tell you’d appreciate the movie  
jayjayjayjay: which isn’t true of most people

**

_Palomino Bar, Milwaukee, 2011_

Mike was drunk on New Year’s Eve. He wished he wasn’t, because he wanted to remember what Jay was like that night: also drunk, approaching wasted. Jay didn’t get over the top, stupid drunk that often. He acted like he was above it or something, but he’d been morose in recent weeks, or maybe months, and for the special occasion he’d given in to heedlessly throwing back beer after beer. Mike loved it. He wanted to memorize every detail of drunk Jay, and was ignoring everyone else at the bar. 

He and Jay had been best friends pretty much since the day they met in person, and Mike had recently gotten Jay a job at the VCR repair shop where he was himself hired just six months before. Jay owed him one, Mike thought, leering at Jay from the barstool beside his. Jay was talking about Bruce Campbell, for some reason. 

“That was the first man crush I ever had,” Jay said, so casually that Mike almost missed the significance. 

“Oh yeah?” Mike said, leaning closer to him. Earlier that year Mike had fucked a blond guy while drunk and had called him Jay at least once. He was able to morph the word into an awkward ‘Jay-sus’ exclamation of general pleasure, at least convincingly enough not to get shoved off. He hadn’t told Jay about any part of this. 

“Mhmm,” Jay said, shrugging. “Would you be freaked out if I was gay?”

Mike shook his head and drank from his beer to keep from saying that he’d figured out Jay was gay about eight years ago. He wasn’t sure why Jay had never said so to him out loud, except that Jay generally refused to talk about his lack of a sex life in any capacity. 

“It’s cool, man,” Mike said, wanting to blurt something about the blond guy, or guys in general, but not wanting to ruin this or steal Jay’s moment. He also kinda felt like Jay wouldn’t believe him, and was afraid he might take it as a cruel joke.

“I don’t know,” Jay said, mumbling. He rubbed at his eyes. “That girl keeps looking at you.” 

He pointed to one at the end of the bar. She was cute, and Mike had seen her in there and talked to her before. He could not recall her name. She saw him looking and waved, smiling. Mike waved back and turned to Jay. 

“I love you no matter what,” Mike said, just loud enough to be heard over the noise from the bar. He smirked like the corniness of this was a joke, even though the sentiment was too real. Jay just drank from his beer and stared into the middle distance like Mike had ruined this moment regardless of his precautions. 

“Mike!” the girl said, appearing at his shoulder and tugging on his sleeve. “I didn’t know you were here!”

“Well,” Mike said, unable to focus on her face while Jay sulked in his peripheral vision. “I am.” 

She laughed, though that wasn’t very funny. Mike laughed, too, reflexively. He put his arm around Jay in a joking fashion. Jay tolerated it for half a second before pushing him away. 

“This is my friend,” Mike said, gesturing to Jay with his beer. “My best friend, Jay.”

“Yeah, we’ve met!” the girl said. She seemed unbothered by the fact that Mike didn’t remember. “It’s midnight in ten minutes,” she said, putting her hand on Mike’s knee. 

“Already?” Mike said. He closed one eye to get the room to stop tilting. It didn’t really work.

“So who’re you gonna kiss?” she asked. 

Mike looked at Jay. He was getting up, unsteady on his feet.

“Need to take a leak,” Jay said, slapping Mike’s hand away when he tried to help him stand. 

“So?” the girl said when Mike turned back to her, Jay having disappeared into the crowd. 

“You could kiss me now,” Mike said, without really thinking about it. “But at midnight I’m kissing Jay.”

She laughed like it was a joke: and of course it was, Jay wouldn’t kiss Mike there or anywhere. Mike laughed, too, and spread his legs so she could lean in between them and throw her arms around his neck. She kissed him on the mouth, tasting like candy and booze. It was a good combination, and Mike pushed his tongue into her mouth to get more of it.

“I thought I remembered you were good at this,” she said when she pulled back. 

“So am I?” he asked and she giggled. 

At midnight Mike picked her up off the ground, needing a new move since they’d been drunkenly making out for the past ten minutes. She laughed against his mouth. Jay remained in a bad mood and left soon after the countdown. The year flipped over into 2012, which Mike vaguely recalled as the year the world was supposed to end, according to some ancient calendar. 

In the morning Mike still didn’t know the girl’s name, and now she was in his bed. His head was pounding. He was in the bathroom and kicking the toilet lid up by the time he remembered Jay coming out to him the night before-- Sort of? The memory was blurry. 

He drank orange juice from the carton in his filthy kitchen and sent Jay a text message:

_You ok this morning?_

Jay responded exactly ten minutes later, and it felt calculated, like he didn’t want to text back right away or seem like he was having an extended pout either. 

_Hungover._

_Me too_ , Mike sent. _Do me a favor, do you remember the name of this girl i went home with?_

_You asshole._  
_Beth._

_Thanks bro you da best._

**

“Yikes,” Rich said.

“Well!” Mike said, glaring at him. Though they were in some kind of time-space void, Mike had reached for the Jay who was with him while watching that, and was kneading his little shoulders apologetically. This Jay didn’t seem mad, anyway. “Where were you?” Mike asked Rich. “Letting me act like that. Some angel!”

“That was tacky, but not exactly an angel-intervention level offense,” Rich said. 

“I hope you-- He-- I don’t know if Jay even remembered saying all that? Did he?”

“I mostly remembered you picking up the girl,” Jay said. “And hating myself for wanting something like that from you. Not that, but something like it.” 

“Is he Jay right now?” Mike asked, leaning over toward Rich and speaking out of the corner of his mouth. “In the void?”

“No, he’s still just Jay’s body,” Rich said. “Us strolling through space and time makes no difference.” 

“‘Cause sometimes he kinda seems like Jay?”

“I can hear you,” Jay said.

“He looks exactly like him and has access to some of his memories,” Rich said, shrugging. “What do you expect? Anyway, let’s move on.”

**

_Lightning Fast VCR Repair, Milwaukee, 2013_

On a Thursday morning at the start of summer, Jay came in late and gave Mike a dodgy look. He had told Mike he’d be late, that he had to go to the dentist. Mike didn’t really care, except that he’d almost nodded off in his chair before Jay got there. The dull hum of the shop’s overhead lights and the warmth of the day outside had made him sleepy. 

“How was the dentist?” Mike asked. 

“Fine,” Jay said, messing with the coffee machine. 

“I haven’t been in a while,” Mike said, running his tongue over his teeth. “No insurance.”

“Yeah, me either.” 

“So how come you went?”

“I was saving up, and I finally saved enough.” 

“To get your teeth cleaned?”

Jay sighed and turned toward Mike. He was holding an empty coffee mug, blushing.

“Go ahead and make fun of me,” he says. 

“For what?” Mike asked, frowning at him. He’d done a lot of looking at Jay’s face over the years and something seemed different. “What’d you do?”

Jay gave Mike a toothy fake smile. 

“Braces,” he said. “The clear kind.”

“Ah,” Mike said. They made Jay’s overbite slightly more obvious. “That must have cost a shitload.”

“Yep.” 

Jay sat beside Mike with his coffee. He drank it hot and black, even in summer. He’d been losing weight, going to some gym. Mike didn’t like it. He didn’t like this braces shit either. It seemed like a bad sign.

“You seeing someone lately?” Mike asked. 

“Seeing-- Who, what?”

“Dating, Jay.”

Jay snorted like the suggestion was ridiculous.

“No,” he said. “Why?”

“You’re doing all this self improvement crap.”

“Maybe because I’d like to date someone, eventually,” Jay said. He drank from his coffee and left the mug over his mouth after swallowing a sip, like he wanted to slump entirely into it to avoid this conversation. 

“Yeah, I get it.” Mike looked down at himself. He was getting fat, but it hadn’t cut into his near-perfect success rate with seducing people. “I bet you could get laid now, though. You don’t even try.” 

“Shut up,” Jay said, sharply enough that Mike dropped it. 

For the rest of the summer Mike stared at Jay for longer than the usual stretches, trying to get used to the braces and also fascinated by them. What would they feel like against Mike’s tongue, for example? He’d long wondered what it would be like to make out with Jay. 

“You’re getting kind of ripped,” Mike said when Jay wore a t-shirt that showed off the arm muscles he suddenly had. 

Jay shrugged. He looked pleased with himself, or with Mike, for noticing. 

“Maybe it’ll make up for me being so short,” he said. 

“Does being short even matter if you’re trying to date guys?” Mike asked, not sure he should dare the question. They’d never really talked about Jay-not-dating-women, unless that drunken thing about Bruce Campbell on New Year’s Eve counted.

“I don’t want to be pigeonholed as a twink,” Jay said.

Mike snorted. Jay cut him a look.

“Go ahead and make a hole pun,” he said. 

“Fuck, now I can’t. You ruined it.”

They grinned at each other. Somewhere in Mike’s chest he went to stand at the kicked-over wall that had been lying there, destroyed, since the first time Jay had really smiled at him. When was Jay gonna run through it, and into the space Mike made for him even way back then? Maybe after he finished getting hot, or never, since the hotness-level chasm between them was rapidly widening.

Also, Jay still didn’t know Mike fucked guys on occasion. Mike wasn’t sure why he couldn’t just tell him. He was afraid, maybe, that it would sound too much like asking if he could please fuck Jay sometime, and what if Jay said no? Mike’s life would be wrecked. Waiting forever and spending his whole life wondering would be better. 

At least, that was the theory he’d be operating under for about ten years. It was starting to feel disproven, because he wasn’t sure he could take another ten, especially if Jay’s biceps were going to look so biteable.

“Hey, if you ever want to practice,” Mike said, waggling his eyebrows like this is a joke. “I’m here.”

“Practice what?” Jay asked.

“Sex with a dude.”

“Great,” Jay said, the humor draining from his eyes. “Real generous of you.”

“Yep, I’m just that good of a friend.”

Mike’s heart was pounding after saying so. They were at the shop, in their chairs. Jay had Starbucks. He looked too good in that fucking shirt.

“Do you want to go see a movie?” Jay asked, kind of desperately. 

“Sure,” Mike said, though their shift didn’t end for another five hours. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” 

“Was that some kind of gay joke?” Jay asked, looking like he hoped so.

“Strangely, no,” Mike said. “It’s just something old men say.” 

“Okay, grandpa. Maybe we can get you a senior discount at the theater.”

Mike forced a laugh. He was kind of sensitive about this, actually. Jay wasn’t losing his hair. He didn’t understand. 

In the dark of the movie theater Mike watched Jay from the corner of his eye, tracking his micro-movements. Jay stayed pretty still, absorbed in what was happening onscreen. His eyelashes caught the light from the projector at moments. At one point he laughed under his breath in a way that made Mike wonder what sort of noises Jay would make during sex. Specifically, what would he sound like if he had Mike’s dick inside him and really liked the way it felt? Mike spent the rest of the movie pondering this and trying not to get hard. It wasn’t the first time watching a movie with Jay had played out this way.

Mike felt a kind of sinking dread as they left the theater together afterward, like the ship he was on was going down and help wasn’t going to reach him in time. All he could do was wait to be underwater and never come back up.

He was meaner to Jay after that, annoyed by him, especially when Jay grew in his mustache and started shellacking his hair into a perfect swoop. Even his posture got better, and by the time the braces came off he was fucking glowing, sun-kissed even in winter. The grime of his insecurity was scrubbed completely off, and Mike hated himself for missing it a little, and longing for the way Jay had slumped at his side and hide inside his humongous clothes. Now everything Jay wore fit perfectly, and Mike woke up to sticky sheets after dreaming about pushing his hands up under Jay’s t-shirts and feeling over the muscles he could almost-see through them. 

Mike gained twenty pounds, then ten more, then stopped bothering with the bathroom scale, and somehow it got to be close to the end of the decade and Jay was still single, though almost certainly fucking around with guys. He went to gay bars, but didn’t talk to Mike about it beyond a muttered comment here and there. Jay hated social media, so had no presence there that Mike could stalk, unless there was a secret one he didn’t know about. He and Jay were still close, but there was a tension between them, too, and most of their time spent together was at work. They talked less and less about their personal lives. 

**

“This is giving me whiplash,” Mike said, disliking how fast they were shooting through the scenes of his life and how this pace particularly emphasized his physical decline. 

“I’m looking for a bump in the narrative,” Rich said, arms crossed over his chest as they scanned through Mike’s memories. “Something significant.”

“The night I went over to his place at two in the morning,” Jay said. He was holding Mike’s arm, squeezing a little at moments, maybe trying to cheer him up. “It was just last year.” 

“Oh god,” Mike said. “What even happened to you that night? You wouldn’t tell me.”

Jay just shook his head, his jaw getting tight as Rich landed on that memory and it took shape in front of them.

**

_Roundtree Apartment Homes, Unit 401A, Milwaukee, 2018_

Mike was asleep on his couch with the menu screen of his _Rocketeer_ DVD cycling the same music over and over when someone knocked on his apartment’s front door, waking him from an almost-lucid dream about doing heroic things with that soundtrack in the background. In the dream he’d been trim and young again, flying around, unstoppable. On the way to answer the door he decided he hated whoever was pounding on it, and was near ready to kill them for interrupting the first good dream he’d had in forever that wasn’t also a sex dream about Jay.

He looked through the peep hole and couldn’t decide if he wanted to retract or double down on that when he saw Jay out there, looking trashed with fucked-up hair and no coat. 

“What the hell?” Mike asked when he pulled open the door.

Something about the way Jay’s shoulders lifted made Mike feel terrible about the volume of his voice, the look on his face, and everything he’d done and said to Jay since he got hot and Mike turned into a bitter old fuck about that and everything else. 

Jay was obviously in trouble, and when he hesitated to speak it seemed like it was because he was afraid his voice would break. Mike grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.

“What’s wrong?” Mike asked, still holding Jay’s arm while he locked the door with his other hand. 

“Nothing,” Jay said, very unconvincingly. He was shaking hard, probably because he was wearing a shirt so thin that his stiff nipples were visible through it. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m drunk, um. Can I have some water?”

“Where’s your coat?” Mike asked. It was below freezing out!

Jay’s only response was to shake his head and look like he might cry. Mike took his sweatshirt off and put it over Jay’s head like Jay was a child who needed help getting dressed. Jay didn’t protest, just pushed his arms into the sleeves and followed Mike into the kitchen. 

“Thanks,” Jay said when Mike handed him a glass of water. Mike watched him drinking and scanned him for damage. 

“What happened to your neck,” Mike asked, beginning to shake with rage when he saw the red mark there that was darkening into a bruise. 

“Nothing,” Jay said, sharply, and his eyes warned Mike not to ask again. He deflated when Mike reached over to squeeze his shoulder. 

“Gimme,” Mike said, reaching for the empty water glass after Jay had gulped it all down. Mike refilled it for him, and when he turned to give it back Jay sort of fell onto him, grabbing him and clinging, still shaking hard. 

“Okay, hey, you’re all right,” Mike said. He thunked the water glass down on the counter so he could hold Jay against him with both arms.

“Sorry,” Jay said, voice muffled against Mike’s shoulder. “I’m fuh, freezing. I walked here. I lost my coat.”

“That sucks, dude.” Mike rubbed Jay’s back and let him pretend that was all that was wrong. “Want me to turn up the heat?”

“No. Just--”

Jay didn’t say the rest, only tightened his grip on Mike and sniffled against his shoulder. Mike understood what he was asking for. He held Jay and said nothing, rubbing his back to get him warm. 

They stood like that for a long time, until Jay wasn’t shaking anymore and Mike had his face pressed against the side of Jay’s head. Mike was trying not to breathe hard enough to freak Jay out, wanting to scream and rage and kill whoever hurt him but knowing that wasn’t what Jay needed. Jay’s hair smelled like a dive bar, like smoke and grime, also like snow. Mike felt insane for ever having let Jay drift through the world without him, unguarded. Anything could have happened to him, and then what would Mike have? Absolutely fucking nothing. 

**

“This was it,” Jay said, his eyes wide and glassy when Mike looked over at him. “It’s the cold thing, the curse. How I can’t get warm without you. It comes from this.”

“Maybe,” Rich said. “But this isn’t the point of no return for Mike’s soul-selling failure. I don’t feel the path detouring yet.”

“What happened that night?” Mike asked, though he knew Jay wouldn’t answer him now either.

“You put me in your bed,” Jay said, watching himself stay in Mike’s arms in the kitchen. He'd stayed there so long that he'd started to fall asleep against Mike’s shoulder, still drunk. “And you didn’t get in with me.”

“I wanted to,” Mike said. “I watched over you for a while. For a long time.” 

“Then you went to sleep on the couch.”

“I thought that’s what you’d want. Didn’t want to freak you out, um. By crowding you.”

“I remember waking up scared,” Jay said. “I didn’t know where I was. But the bed smelled like you, and so did that sweatshirt you’d put on me. I called your name, but you were asleep. You didn’t come to me.”

“Jay--”

“Let’s try one more,” Rich said. “And then we may have to try-- Something else.”

Mike didn’t like the trepidation in Rich’s voice when he said that. He swallowed all his questions about that night and turned back to face his memories.

**

_Lightning Fast VCR Repair, Milwaukee, 2019_

Mike had never given a damn about Valentine’s Day, but it seemed like as good an excuse as any to try something on Jay. If nothing else, it was more likely that Jay would write it off as a prank if Mike fell on his face, because who took this bullshit holiday seriously? Certainly not Mike!

The barrage of sappy advertising was kind of getting to him that year, maybe because he was forty years old and still couldn’t bring himself to try to keep a woman around or find a guy to be his regular fuckbuddy. He knew what he wanted and it wasn’t that. What he wanted was over there looking impossibly good in his chair, sipping his fucking Starbucks, and it was like there was a wall up between them that Mike had just gotten too heavy to scale. He’d realized too late that he should have tried sooner, when he had more energy and less terror in his bones. 

“So, big plans for tonight?” Mike asked when it was approaching the end of their shift and he hadn’t yet said any of the seductive shit he’d cooked up for his big last chance attempt. 

“Tonight?” Jay said. “Not really. It’s Thursday.” 

“What’s wrong with Thursday? It’s also Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh god. No, I don’t have plans. The bars are obnoxious as fuck on Valentine’s Day. On any holiday, really.” 

Mike knew what he meant by the bars. The gay ones. Sometimes Jay went all the way to Chicago for the fancy places where he stood a better chance of hooking up with someone of his caliber. Mike only knew this because Jay had admitted it while drunk a few weeks before. After years of being a stick in the mud about drinking, for the sake of his trim figure, Jay had lately gone back to drinking beer thoughtlessly alongside Mike and had gotten a little soft again. 

Mike wanted him about a thousand times more now that he looked like this. Jay’s physique had become a perfect visual metaphor for the razor sharp perfectionist Jay who Mike was terrified of and the soft, secret Jay he wanted to cuddle and protect. The combination was devastating, and it was killing Mike day by day. He’d even cut back on his own drinking, to try to look halfway decent. It was working, sort of.

“We could hang out,” Mike said, trying not to notice the weird pitch of his voice or think about the fact that he was already avoiding Jay’s eyes. “Me and you. I could make you a romantic dinner.” 

He gave Jay a smirk, trying to look like he knew what he was doing. Jay had his arms crossed over his lap and his hands cupped around his elbows. His expression was curious but cautious, like he was waiting for the punchline. 

“You know how to cook?” Jay said. 

“Um. A few things. Hot dogs, for example.” 

Jay grinned. Mike’s heart lifted. Did he have Jay on the hook? Was it happening?

The doorbell rattled, and Mike almost cursed out loud when Mr. Plinkett ambled in.

“We’re closed!” Mike shouted. “Get out!” 

“Mike!” Jay said, under his breath. “C’mon, we need the money.” 

“This won’t take long,” Plinkett said, walking up to the counter. He had a ratty old satchel tucked under his arm. He threw it onto the counter, knocking various other things off in the process. “Take a look in there,” he said, gesturing. “Maybe it’s something you two could help me with.”

“Is it a dead animal?” Jay asked, lip lifting. 

“Does it smell like one? No! It’s a-- Well, you’ll see. Go ahead.” 

“Fuck no!” Mike said, snarling at him. “We don’t want your mystery bag, what even is this?”

“It’s something I’d like you to take care of! There’s big money in it for you if you do.” 

**

“I don’t remember this,” Jay said, frowning. 

“Me either,” Mike said. “I mean, I remember wanting to ask you out on Valentine’s Day and chickening out, but--” 

“Something’s off,” Rich said, narrowing his eyes. “This guy’s a minion of Satan. He’s interfering.” 

“Oh god!” Mike said, wanting to reach through the veil of time and shake himself, to make himself not open that bag. “I should have fuckin’ known! Plinkett! I’ll kill him!”

“Shh!” Rich said. “I think this is it, something veered off course here.” 

**

Mike opened the bag, bracing himself for a bloody body part or worse. He groaned and reached inside when he saw it was just a video tape. 

“The fuck is this?” he asked, turning it over and seeing no label. 

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to figure out,” Plinkett said. “I found it in my basement, and I think it might be a real special tape of home movies, some cherished memories of mine, but there’s no label, see? And since you assholes never got around to fixing my VCR, I can’t play it and find out. Pop it into a working one, yeah? I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you just let me check out what’s on that tape, here at the shop.” 

“A hundred bucks?” Jay said. “Really?”

“Give me the money upfront,” Mike said, holding out his hand. “And you got a deal.” 

“Sure thing,” Plinkett said, the corner of his lips lifting into an almost-smile that worried Mike a little. Plinkett reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a loose hundred dollar bill. He smacked it into Mike’s palm. 

“Wow, okay,” Jay said, hurrying out of his chair. “I’ll hook up a VCR for you.” 

“No, wait,” Plinkett said. “I want fatso to do it.” 

“Huh?” Mike said, scowling. “Me?”

“Who the fuck else could I possibly be referring to? Go ahead, I got some other business to discuss with Jay.” 

“Business?” Jay said. 

“That’s right, sweetcheeks. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all. I want to take you out for a nice meal. No strings attached.” 

“No way,” Mike said. “Xandu will smite him if you try that. Plus, Jay’s got plans.” 

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Plinkett said, leering. “Just give us a moment, asshole, and go do the work I just paid you for.”

“Private conference,” Jay said, before Mike could start ranting at Plinkett again. Jay grabbed Mike’s elbow and pulled him away. “Mike,” Jay said, whispering, when they were in the corner of the shop together, Plinkett watching them from the other side of the counter. “Just go play his stupid tape. This will be the easiest hundred bucks we’ve ever made. If we humor him and then get rid of him after he’s seen what’s on the tape, we can use his cash to get something better than hot dogs for dinner.” 

Mike tried to press his lips down around his beaming smile, but he couldn’t. Jay smiled back, sweet and pink-cheeked. His hand was still on Mike’s arm, and he tightened his grip in a little squeeze before letting go. 

“Okay.” Mike winked at Jay and cleared his throat. “Good plan, uh. I’ll just go get this thing in a VCR. Shouldn’t take long.”

Mike headed to the back room, where they had their TV and DVD player set up. He grabbed a hopefully functional VCR from the pile of them on their work table and brought it over to hook it up, straining to listen to the conversation from the front room. As far as he could hear, it was just Plinkett making disgusting attempts at flirting with Jay and Jay stammering awkwardly in response. Mike cursed under his breath when he fumbled a connecting cable, wanting to hurry up and get this over with so he could take Jay out on a date.

His hands started shaking at the very thought: Jay had agreed to dinner with him, it was Valentine’s Day, and that little smile Jay gave him, the way he’d touched Mike’s arm?? Holy shit! Maybe it was too good to be true, maybe Jay was only thinking of this as a friendly outing and not a date, but Mike had a feeling that was like sunlight pouring through him, like that one look from Jay had turned the bitter winter evening into a summer day. He thought of sitting across from Jay at that burger joint a million years ago, and how his chest had ached with a then still mysterious longing that first time Jay smiled at him. It felt like fucking fate, like a long-ago prophecy of Mike’s eventual happiness was finally going to be proven true. 

Mike was smiling dopily at the TV screen as he popped the tape in to make sure the VCR he’d chosen was working. The tape started playing successfully, at first just showing a fuzz of static and then snapping to an image of-- a rock? 

Mike snorted. Plinkett filmed a rock? What a fucking moron.

He opened his mouth to call out that the tape was playing and to tell Jay and Plinkett to come on back, but his voice died in his throat when the image on the screen changed in a flash of strobing light.

**

“Oh no,” Mike said, reaching out as if he could change this scene. “No, no, what the fuck--”

“Is that me?” Jay asked, squinting at the image that was playing on the screen.

“This didn’t happen,” Mike said, shaking his head. “I don’t remember this.” 

“It did happen,” Rich said gravely. “But there’s a reason you two don’t remember, and it was blanked out for me, too. This is some dark fucking magic, kids. Someone really wanted your mortal souls.” 

Mike stared, his mouth hanging open, face hot. Jay was no longer touching him, just staring, too. Mike couldn’t remember ever seeing what he was watching himself stare at on the screen of the little TV in the back room at the repair shop-- At least, not as an actual memory from the real world. He was, however, very familiar with some of these images that were flashing before his eyes in this vision of the past, and as he watched himself lean closer to the screen, he almost-recalled what it was like to feel as if he’d stumbled into a living dream that he never wanted to leave.

The video was crystal clear, the kind of HD quality that a non-enchanted VHS tape would be nowhere near capable of displaying. The images onscreen were also impressive in their accurate resemblance to the ones Mike had run over and over again in his most cherished and revisited fantasies, for years by that point: Jay looking up at him, breathing hard, begging to be kissed without needing to speak, moaning against Mike’s mouth as soon as their lips touched. Things quickly escalated to his fantasies of Jay in his bed, naked, panting, spread open for him, whining and asking Mike for more, harder, telling Mike that his dick was so big, that he’d never been fucked so well before.

“Aw,” Jay said, and when Mike looked over at him he didn’t look disturbed, which only felt like another stake in Mike’s heart, because of course this wasn’t the real, complete Jay, not even close. The real one would combust into flames of pure rage if he was forced to watch this in the presence of Rich, Mike, anyone. “Your dreams about me?” Jay said.

“Eugh,” Rich said, because the shit onscreen was getting more hardcore, shifting to Mike’s fantasies about tying Jay up and making him beg to come, spanking Jay’s ass until it was bright red and he was crying against Mike’s mattress but also telling him not to stop--

“Turn it off,” Mike said, too late, because there were other fantasies, too, worse: Jay cuddled in Mike’s lap by a Christmas tree, fully dressed in a t-shirt and some plaid pajama pants, beaming and telling Mike he loved him, that he wasn’t going to go skiing with his stupid sisters for Christmas as usual but would stay home with Mike so that Mike wouldn’t have to spend another depressing Christmas with his mother, Jay saying that there was nobody else he really needed as long as he had Mike--

“Oh, Mike,” Jay said, pitying. 

“I said turn it off!” Mike said, shouting at Rich. In the memory, the Mike who was watching all this on the TV screen at the shop almost had his nose pressed to the screen, not even a little bit embarrassed or disturbed, just mesmerized by seeing it all play out in front of him and feeling as if seeing it on that TV was making it all real. “Rich, please!” Mike said when Rich just stood there like a dope, doing nothing. “Enough!”

“I can’t,” Rich said, with sympathy. “We have to get to the part where it breaks everything. That was their plan, clearly, look.”

Mike didn’t want to look. He thought of Jay needing him, trapped somewhere far away and horrible, alone. He clenched his jaw and turned back to see this nightmare continue to unfold, the images on the screen a combination of vile pornography and saccherine shit that stabbed Mike in the heart again and again, like a demon’s reveling laughter piercing straight through him.

**

“Mike! MIKE!”

Mike jerked and turned to shove whoever was bothering him away, baring his teeth. His shoulders jumped when he saw it was Jay, which couldn’t be-- 

Jay was on the--

Mike turned to the TV, which was blaring static in his face.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jay asked. He looked frightened, upset. “I’ve been calling your name, did you not hear me?”

“I--” Mike kept staring at the TV, not sure what he was expecting to see there. Something-- What? Why were they in the shop? What was Plinkett doing there? Mike couldn’t voice any of these questions, for some reason. His mouth felt very dry.

“You’re staring at static like a drooling imbecile,” Jay said. “What the hell?”

“You didn’t-- Didn’t see, ah--?”

Mike pointed at the screen. 

“See what?” Jay asked, looking at Mike like he was crazy. His expression softened and he shook his head, turning to glare at Plinkett. “What the fuck is this shit?” he asked. “What’d you do to Mike?” 

“Huh?” Plinkett said. “Nothing, baby doll. I don’t know what this idiot is up to. Looks like my tape is just static, though. That’s too bad. Ah, well. You guys can keep the hundred bucks, for your trouble. So, whaddya say, Jay? Want me to buy you a nice meal at the Golden Corral?” 

“No! I told you, it’s over between us. Tell me why Mike is acting so weird. I know it’s something you did.” 

“The hell could I have done, I was standing out there with you!”

Jay grunted in annoyance and went to hit the eject button. He took out Plinkett’s tape and turned it over in his hands a few times, frowning, before shoving it toward Plinkett.

“Take your tape and get out of here,” he said.

“No!” Mike said, leaping up to grab it from Jay. “It’s mine now. Plinkett only wanted it because he thought it wasn’t blank. It’s mine now, right?” 

Mike felt sweat gathering across the back of his neck. He knew he sounded insane, but he couldn’t let this tape go. It was sacred, precious.

“Sure,” Plinkett said, waving his hand in Mike’s direction. “Knock yourself out.”

“What the hell?” Jay said.

“Well, I’m off,” Plinkett said, already walking away. “Thanks for the uncharacteristically quick service, dickheads. Jay, if you’re up for a booty call later, give me a ring!”

“Fuck off!” Jay said. “I’m never going to sleep with you, so stop asking.” 

“You’re the one who wanted to marry him,” Mike said bitterly when Jay turned back to him. 

Mike had the tape hugged to his chest, and he stepped away when Jay moved toward him, afraid Jay would try to take it from him again. 

“What are you doing?” Jay asked. Out in the shop, the bell over the door clanged as Plinkett made his exit. “Is this some kind of prank you’re playing on me?”

“No,” Mike said. “Not everything is about you, Jay. Just leave me alone, I’m in the middle of something here.”

“What?” Jay’s angry glare transformed into something wounded and lost. He looked out at the shop and back at Mike. “I thought. I mean. We still have his money, just. Forget the stupid tape, keep it if you want to, weirdo. I thought we were going to go get some dinner, though?”

“No,” Mike said, desperate to stick the tape back into the VCR and get rid of Jay so that he could-- He wasn’t sure what, he just knew he needed it. “I’m gonna work late. You go, if you’re hungry. Here.” He took the hundred dollar bill from his pocket and held it out for Jay. “Treat yourself,” he said. 

Jay just stared at the money, lips parted, then looked up at Mike’s face. He seemed like he was going to protest again, maybe like he’d-- What? Beg? Mike felt a shudder move down the backs of his legs, and he licked his lips, pressing the tape against his chest a little more tightly, wanting to be alone with it more than he’d ever wanted anything.

“Fuck you,” Jay said. His voice was a little broken, for some reason. “Keep your money. I’m going home.” 

“Great,” Mike said, meaning it. He shoved the cash into his pocket and watched Jay go.

Jay turned back to give Mike one last look as he was putting on his coat. He seemed so far away, and for a moment Mike was sure he should call out to Jay and tell him to come back, but a kind of hissing need for something else wouldn’t let him do it, so he just watched Jay walk out into the cold alone, without looking back again.

When Jay was gone, Mike blinked around at the back room of the shop. He felt like he’d just come to after a night of blackout drinking, only he wasn’t hungover and hadn’t even had a single beer that day. He’d been careful to stay sober, because this was going to be the night that he finally said something to Jay about his feelings. 

But it was after five o’clock and Jay had left the shop. Of course Mike had fucking chickened out. He growled under his breath, hating this cowardly soft spot within him more than ever. He was brave in all other areas of his life, but this was his fucking weakness, and apparently he would never overcome it. 

He was holding a VHS tape that he didn’t remember picking up. Curious, he popped it into the VCR that he also didn’t remember plugging in. Maybe Jay had set it up. He was always watching some obscure bullshit. 

Mike fell onto the couch and huffed in unsurprised disappointment when he played the tape and only saw empty static. He fast-forwarded through it for a while, finding nothing but more static, then popped it out and threw it in the garbage. 

**

“Jay stopped at the Pick n Save on the way home,” Rich said when the images from the past dissipated around them, returning them to the kitchen in Jay's apartment. “And that’s where he met Tom, in the ice cream aisle. They met each other’s eyes and joked that they were buying ice cream because they were depressed and alone on Valentine’s Day. Tom asked Jay if he wanted to get a drink first and come back for the ice cream later. Jay did, and at the bar he told Tom all about you, Mike, and how you were ruining his life, how bad you’d just hurt him by jerking him around. Tom and Jay both got drunk and went back to Tom’s place together. Tom brought Jay ice cream for breakfast in the morning. Jay was charmed. The rest is history, or was, until the denizens of the underworld intervened again.” 

“How do you know all that?” Jay asked. 

“Guardian angels have access to surface events. I knew all that because it’s relevant to Mike’s life. I didn’t realize it sprang from this devious stunt, though. Someone intentionally derailed your, uh. Moment, when you two would have come together for real.” 

Mike couldn’t move or speak or force his eyes to fully focus on reality. He wasn’t sure what was overcoming him more: his bitter, growing rage that something had been taken from him, the biggest thing, what he wanted more than anything, or the corresponding sense of loss that was tunnelling through him, hollowing him out. 

“Plinkett,” Mike said, when he could speak again. “He did this.” 

“He facilitated it,” Rich said. “But it seems like the devil made him do it, or at least asked him to. He did seem to enjoy it, the sick fuck.” 

“So what do we do now?” Jay asked. He took hold of Mike’s arm, gently, as if Mike was an agitated animal who might snap.

“Plinkett said he found that video tape in his basement,” Rich said. “And he seemed unwilling to physically handle it himself. I think that was a hint.”

“A hint about what?” Jay asked.

“Where our portal is. There are portals to Hell all over the place, but you have to find the right one if you want any hope of getting back out again. It’s got to be the one that’s tailored to your business there.” 

“How will we know?” Mike asked.

“Well, we won’t, but this is the best lead we have. C’mon, fuckos. We’re going to Plinkett’s house.”

**


	5. Chapter 5

The bus ride to Plinkett’s place was awkward. Night had fallen in the real world during their trip through space and time, and the dark streets that the bus travesered looked unfriendly. Mike was fuming, heartbroken. Jay sat beside him in the window seat, quietly staring at either the streets outside or his reflection. He seemed nervous, and Mike wanted to console him, but he was using all his energy to hold it together until they got to Plinkett’s house, where he planned on killing Plinkett as painfully as possible. Rich sat across from the aisle from them, looking contemplative. 

“Is Jay going to keep the memories he made up here?” Mike asked, turning to Rich. “Once I fix him?”

“Dunno,” Rich said. “I’ve never seen someone successfully save their own soul from Satan’s clutches, let alone someone else’s.”

“Never?? Are you even sure it’s possible?”

“Uhh,” Rich said, giving Mike an apologetic look. “Yes?”

Mike groaned and punched the back of the empty seat in front of him. 

“Don’t worry,” Jay said, patting Mike’s thigh. “I’m sure you can do it.”

“Yeah, and if I can, and you remember what you just saw, all that nasty fantasy shit? I’m a dead man. Jay will never talk to me again.”

Jay recoiled a little. “How do you know?” he asked. “I didn’t think there was anything that bad on that, uh. Tape.”

“You’re a sex demon who wants nothing but to please me, so that doesn’t mean shit.”

Jay pulled back further, leaning against the bus window and taking his hand off Mike’s leg. 

“Sorry,” Mike said, reaching over to squeeze Jay’s shoulder. Jay went tense against his touch, still looked hurt and angry. “It’s not your fault. I’m just, uh. Going out of my mind, that’s all. Plinkett’s gonna fucking pay for what he did to us.”

“Hey, now,” Rich said. “Attacking a defenseless old man before trying to win your soul back is not a great idea.” 

“Defenseless?” Mike said, spitting with rage when he whirled toward Rich. “Uh, no? He’s a minion of the fucking devil and he ruined my life!”

“He may have been ordered to do it by the devil, we don’t know.”

“You said yourself that he clearly took sick pleasure in doing it! He was jealous that I was about to get with Jay!”

“Probably, but regardless, you can’t commit an act of violence right before walking into Hell, Mike. You’ll never get back out if that’s how it goes down.” 

“Fine,” Mike said. “I’ll just murder his decrepit old ass after I get back with my soul and Jay’s intact.” 

“Going in with murder in your heart is not a great idea either. Also, Plinkett is immortal.” 

Mike groaned and punched the seat again, harder.

“Hey!” the bus driver shouted. “Knock it off back there!” 

“Try to cultivate goodwill before you undertake this quest, please!” Rich said, hissing this at Mike under his breath when Mike snarled at the bus driver. “You can’t go in there enraged and unhinged. You’ve got to be your best self, to attract your soul back into your body.”

“Oh god,” Mike said. “What exactly do I do once I go through the portal?”

“First off, you’re bringing him with you,” Rich said, pointing to Jay. “So you’ll have something to stick his soul back into when you find it. And you can’t do that before you get your own soul back, got it? Even if you somehow find Jay’s first, leave it alone until you’ve got your own soul back.”

“Why?”

“Because if you find his soul while you don’t have yours, while you’re in Hell? There’s no telling what you’ll do with it! You can’t trust yourself with him, the real him, until you’re a full person again yourself.”

“But I don’t feel any different without a soul. I’m still in fucking agony over him! Where does that come from if not my soul?”

“It’s complicated,” Rich said. “Your soul still exists elsewhere, you’re just removed from the full weight of it at the moment. Regardless, what you’re going to do when you go through the portal is try to survive, initially. Hell ain’t no joke.”

“You’ve been?”

“Well, no. I’d immolate instantly if I tried to go through the portal. But I know a thing or two about spiritual realms, okay?”

“What will happen if I can’t get my soul back?” Mike asked.

“You’d both be trapped in Hell forever. Eventually the devil would entirely consume the pure soul she wanted.” Rich pointed at Jay to indicate that he was talking about his, as if Mike didn’t already know his own soul was far from pure. “Yours might sit around on a shelf for a while or get eaten by some other demon. You wouldn’t be able to enjoy things down there without souls, not even in the hollow way you can up here just with your bodies and minds. They probably wouldn’t bother torturing you for long without a soul in there to get agitated by it, so you’d just kinda be lifeless entities without joy or hope or purpose. So, uh. Don’t let that happen.”

“I won’t,” Mike said. He turned to Jay, who still looked wary and annoyed by him. “I promise.” 

“I believe you,” Jay said. “But maybe only because I have to,” he added bitterly, moving away when Mike reached for him. “I guess nothing I say or think matters until you get my soul back.” 

“That’s accurate,” Rich said. 

“Shut up, Rich,” Mike said. “He’s-- You said yourself that it’s complicated! Jay’s soul still exists elsewhere, like mine, and it’s connected to this body.” 

“Yeahhh, but his is-- Well, we don’t know for sure, but I’m ninety-nine percent certain that his soul is buried waaaay deeper in that nightmare down below than yours, and also he’s been bewitched to respond to you a certain way, whereas your feelings for him are real. You’re a little more you than he is him, that’s all.” 

Jay turned away from Mike and stared angrily out the window. When he started shaking from the cold curse, Mike reached over to tentatively place his hand on Jay’s thigh. Jay didn’t push him away, probably just for practical reasons. 

“Sorry I called you a sex demon,” Mike said, whispering this to Jay when Rich seemed distracted by a packet of crackers that he’d pulled out of his jacket pocket. 

“I don’t care,” Jay said. 

“I’m very confused about all of this, Jay.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s the theme of your life, Mike.”

“Man, you really sound like-- Feel like him. At moments, anyway. I wonder if we can just gradually regrow our souls up here on Earth.”

“You can’t,” Rich said, apparently eavesdropping. 

“How do I know you’re not just another agent of Satan?” Mike asked, snapping this at Rich. “Fucking this up for us again just before we figured it out on our own?’’

Rich groaned and popped a cracker in his mouth. 

“What would I need to do to prove my good will to you, Mike?” he asked, chewing. “Maybe show you how to save the love of your life from the clutches of Satan, something like that?”

“How can I know for sure that’s what you’re doing? You’re sending me and Jay straight to Hell. Maybe that’s all part of your evil plan!” 

“Hell already has everything it wants from you, genius!” 

“Says you!” 

Rich dusted cracker crumbs off his hands. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Mike a long-suffering stare. 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Rich said. “I think you’re just stalling because you’re afraid of what comes next.” 

“No!” Mike said, red-faced. He felt caught out, because he was somehow sure, in the pit of the place where his soul was supposed to be, that Rich was trying to help. He’d known as soon as Rich looked sadly at Jay and asked what Mike had done to him. 

“Look, I get it,” Rich said. “Going into Hell is some scary shit. But I think there’s a reason these evil fucks fixated on you two, and in particular on driving you apart and going in for the kill when you were despairing about Jay being with someone else, at your rock bottom. They have an interest in you that means you’re in danger, sure, but it also means you must have some kind of power they want. So you’ve got a real fighting chance. I think.”

“You think,” Mike said flatly. 

“I don’t send people into Hell lightly, Mike! Especially when I’m responsible for the welfare of their mortal soul.”

“What happens to you if we get stuck in Hell?”

Rich sighed. “I’d get evaporated,” he said. “If you don’t have a soul, what good am I?”

“They wouldn’t just reassign you to someone else?”

“Who’s ‘they,’ Mike?”

“I don’t fucking know, you tell me!”

Rich waved a hand through the air. 

“Forget trying to understand it,” he said. “Maybe if we all survive this I can try to explain it to you later. You need to keep your head in the game, for now.” 

Rich nodded to Jay, who had slumped against the bus window with his arms hugged around himself, shivering hard. 

“Hey, c’mere,” Mike said, making his voice soft. He knew they were getting close to Plinkett’s house and that he didn’t have much time to warm Jay up, literally or otherwise. He slid his arm around Jay’s shoulders and pulled him close. Jay was a little stiff under Mike’s arm but ultimately couldn’t resist. He turned toward Mike and hid his face against Mike’s neck.

“Oh god,” Jay said, voice muffled against Mike’s skin. “You’re so warm right here. Fuck.”

“I gotcha,” Mike said, rubbing Jay’s shoulder and trying not to be aroused by this. It was difficult. Jay smelled incredible, like everything from the past and the present that Mike had ever wanted. “That was wild, watching those old memories of us,” Mike said, mumbling this quietly while Jay clutched at him. “They really, uh. Felt like your memories, too?”

“I almost remembered my mother’s name during the one where we went to my house,” Jay said, a little huffily. “Almost. I think it starts with a C?”

“Mhm,” Mike said. In fact, it did not.

Jay moaned and looked up at him, frowning. 

“What do you think we’ve got that’s so powerful?” he asked. 

“No idea,” Mike said. “But whatever it is, it’s something you have, not me.”

“How do you know?”

“They were just using me to get to you, man. They knew you’d never sell your soul for-- jesus, definitely not for me, or anything else.”

Jay looked like he was going to argue otherwise, then just grunted and pressed his face to Mike’s neck again, nuzzling against him like he wanted to enjoy this while he could. Mike could relate. He sighed and leaned over to kiss the top of Jay’s head. 

“You smell amazing,” Mike said, looking glumly out the window as the bus slowed to a stop. The next stop would be theirs, close to Plinkett’s house. “What is that?”

“What’s what,” Jay asked.

“That smell, it’s like. Something so good, but I can’t put my finger on it.” 

“Home,” Jay said. 

“Huh?”

“That’s what you smell like to me. I don’t know.”

Mike gave him a squeeze and pinched his eyes shut. He told himself they could do this. Somehow. They would rise to the occasion, for once, for the most important thing they would ever do together before probably parting forever. Because no way would the real Jay forgive Mike for this. Mike tried to enjoy this one’s docile willingness to at least leech warmth from him, but as good as it felt it was awful, too, a reminder of what he was about to lose.

And he might have had it for real, if Plinkett hadn’t intervened. Mike sneered at his reflection in the bus window, reminding himself that he shouldn’t enter Hell with murder in his heart. He didn’t see how he could avoid it, however, if he would have to interact with that fucker Plinkett on the way down to his basement lair, which may or may not hold a portal to the underworld.

Mike wagered it probably did. A literal portal to Hell seemed just like the kind of seedy shit Plinkett would be squatting on top of.

“How are we going to get Plinkett to give us access to the portal?” Mike asked as the bus approached their stop. He wasn’t ready to get up, or to let go of Jay, except that he had to be, because the real Jay was waiting, scared and alone. “He’s got powerful friends,” Mike said before Rich could answer. “Xandu is his, like, husband.” 

“Xandu’s a bush league asshole,” Rich said. “Don’t worry about him. Let me handle Plinkett. I’ll distract him, and once I have, you two sneak down to his basement and find the portal.”

“What’s it gonna look like?”

“Some kind of black hole or doorway to complete darkness. You can’t see into Hell until you’re inside it.”

“Great. Wonderful.”

“Get out of here with that attitude!” Rich said, reaching over to smack Mike’s arm. “Remember, this is all your doing!”

“Uh, not really? I was hypnotized by evil magic!”

“I’m not saying you’re not a victim here, but you must realize they took advantage of your existing weakness both times they bamboozled you.” 

“And which weakness is that, Rich.” 

Rich pointed at Jay. 

Mike snorted. “Ya think? Be more specific, if you really want to help guide me toward goodness or what the fuck ever.”

“How specific to you want me to get? I should think that video you were hypnotized by made it clear enough.”

“Uh, no? It’s evil that I want to fuck him?”

“No, no, no. You were glued to that fantasy highlight reel while the real Jay was standing right there! You’ve become corrupted by your own obsessive belief that you could never have him. What’d you do when you found out he was seeing someone else? Weigh the pros and cons of finally telling him about your own feelings? Nope, you yelled at him, threw things in the shop, and sold your soul to the devil, like. Instantly.”

“Okay, first of all?” Mike said, glowering. “Telling him my feelings when he’s already dating someone else, and risking him being like, um, sucks for you because I don’t feel the same, and it’s pretty obvious, I should think, since I already have a boyfriend? And then having to sit there in that shop every day next to him with both of us dying of embarrassment because I’d confessed for no reason? That’s easier said than fucking done!”

“It’s supposed to be hard, doofus! Doing the right thing almost always is!”

“Also!” Mike said, ignoring this, “This wasn’t just about him dating someone suddenly. He was driven into the arms of that asshole when evil forces intentionally splintered us apart!”

“Now we’re going in circles. I just told you, they were--”

“Taking advantage of my own weakness, yeah, yeah. But I did the fucking hard thing that day, and it amounted to exactly shit!”

“Asking him to eat a hotdog with you was the start of the hard work you needed to do, sure. That’s why they pounced. But, Mike? It had been eighteen fucking years! Inviting him over for Valentine’s Day hotdogs was too little, too late. Hence our situation.” 

“So what lesson am I supposed to take from this? Huh? Angel?”

“Don’t be a coward. Even if you think you might get hurt. You’re only cheating yourself and him if you do.”

Mike turned away from Rich with a snarl and thought about the look on Jay’s face after Mike had canceled their dinner date. They’d been so close to-- Something, something so good. Jay had felt it, too. Then Mike turned on him like he meant nothing, because of that evil tape. 

“What the hell do they want our souls for this bad anyway?” Mike asked, though he was sure Rich would have said so already if he knew. 

“Beats me,” Rich said. “But, like I said. Maybe it gives you an advantage in saving them.” 

They got off the bus and trekked to Plinkett’s house in tense silence, heads bent against a cold wind that seemed to warn them back. Mike kept hold of Jay’s hand. He imagined holding it all the way through Hell itself. The thought scared him, even as he struggled to wrap his mind around it at all: they were going to Hell, to face the devil, because of what Mike had done. It seemed both impossible and oddly fitting, because of everything they’d been through together already and because Mike had always assigned a kind of epic, otherworldly quality to his love for Jay, which was part of why he’d never acted on it. It had seemed too big and wondrous to touch, like something sacred that he would mess up as soon as he put his clumsy hands on it in reality. 

“What if we can’t find the portal?” Mike asked when they were standing at the end of Plinkett’s front walk. There was a dim television glow from inside the old man’s living room. He was either awake watching TV or snoring in his armchair while the TV went on playing. Mike looked desperately at Rich, and tugged on his arm to get his attention. “Huh?” he said when Rich gave him a look that Mike tried not to interpret as worried. “What if we’re wrong and the portal isn’t really here?”

“I feel like it probably is,” Rich said. 

“How come?” Mike asked, though he could feel it, too. They were about to cross some kind of threshold. It made Mike feel doomed and like he should tell Jay to just run and never look back, only it wasn’t Jay standing beside him, just his body.

Rich shook his head and sighed. He turned to face Plinkett’s house again.

“Hell has a certain stink,” he said. “Not a literal smell, but a sort of miasma that hangs around any entryway. I can sense it even out here. We’re on the right track. Which is, you know. Good.”

It didn’t feel good. Jay was the one who went up and knocked on the door when both Rich and Mike continued hesitating, overcome with the sense that pretty soon there would be no going back. 

“Harry!” Jay called, knocking harder when there was no answer. “It’s Jay! Let me in, I need to see you.” 

“Ey, good plan,” Rich said. 

“No shit.” Jay turned to give Rich and then Mike an unappreciative look. He was clearly cold and trying to hide it. “I’m not some airhead idiot. Maybe I’ll be the one who saves the fuh, fuckin’ day.” His teeth were starting to chatter. “Wh-what would you assholes think of that?”

“I’d be fine with it,” Rich said. “In fact, when he gets his soul back, the fully-restored Jay will probably have the best chance at fighting his way out of Hell.” 

“I’ll stay there without him if I have to,” Mike said. He completely meant it and therefore was probably fucked. “I’m serious,” he said, walking over to touch Jay’s shivery shoulder. “If it helps him get out-- That’s all I want.” 

“He would never let you do that,” Jay said.

Before Mike could respond, Plinkett pulled the door open and scowled at them from behind his mirrored sunglasses. He was wearing a ratty old bathrobe over his clothes and leaning on his cane, the television blaring a cable news shouting match in the room behind him.

“The hell are you two doing here?” Plinkett asked. He craned his neck and pointed the end of his cane at Rich. “And who’s that?”

“What, you don’t recognize me?” Rich said, stepping forward. “Dad?”

“Oh fuck, not again!” Plinkett shuffled forward with a sigh, inserting himself into the doorway as if to keep them out. “What do you want, and what are you doing here at this hour, with these losers?”

“Harry, things have gotten all mixed up,” Jay said, shrugging Mike’s hand off his shoulder. “Let us come in and explain.”

“Mixed up, huh?” Plinkett gave Jay a suspicious look, then stared up at Mike with a full on sneer. “What’s it got to do with one of my illegitimate kids? You fuckers are after money, aren’t you?”

“No,” Mike said, his jaw tight with the barely restrained urge to pound his fists against the top of Plinkett’s driving cap and send him into the ground like a fucking whack-a-mole. He forced himself to stop thinking about that incident on Valentine’s Day and concentrate on the task at hand. “Let us in, Jay is cold out here.”

“I don’t know how I feel about letting three strange men into my home at this hour.” 

“Strange men!” Jay said, his shoulders jerking as if Plinkett had slapped him. “How dare you. We were engaged.”

Mike cringed, disliking how easily Jay could adopt this simpering attitude in his current state.

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure that was some kinda scheme you two were running on me, too,” Plinkett said. He grunted and shuffled aside with a sigh. “Come in, I guess, but only for a minute, and don’t expect no payout just because you found some scrap of DNA I left lyin’ around.” 

“That’s no way to talk about your son,” Jay said, following close behind Plinkett as they all headed into the house. The crap about Rich being Plinkett’s son was something they’d come up with just to get him in the door, and Mike hadn’t been sure that Plinkett would believe it, but he didn’t seem remotely surprised to find another wayward child on his doorstep. 

Mike peered around the dark living room warily, half sure that he was going to find Satan lurking in a corner, or that a giant pit of flame might have opened up in the center of the house. He supposed that shit might be sequestered down in the basement, and shuddered at the thought of going down there. He felt like a coward, facing what he had to do and trying to ignore the feeling that he would certainly fail, that in all the ways that mattered he already had. 

“I’d offer you a beverage,” Plinkett said. “But I didn’t invite you over and you’re imposing. So? What do you all want, exactly?”

“Oh, I think you know,” Rich said, stepping forward. 

Mike’s heart rate picked up. This had been part of the plan they devised on the walk here: Rich would act as a distraction and incapacitate Plinkett while Jay and Mike dashed downstairs and into the portal to Hell as quickly as they could. It sounded simple enough, but Rich had warned that Plinkett might have hidden Satanic powers to contend with.

Plinkett and Rich were staring at each other. Jay was standing at Mike’s side, holding his hand as subtly as possible to keep warm. 

“Wait a fuckin’ minute,” Plinkett said, shifting his cane forward and craning his neck toward Rich. “You can’t be my kid, you ain’t even human. You got some kinda spiritual aura around you, what the hell is that thing?” 

“It’s a wonder you don’t recognize it,” Rich said, sneering. “Considering the company you’ve been keeping. Most high-level demons have encountered one of my kind before.”

“What?” Plinkett snapped.

Jay tugged on Mike’s sleeve and tilted his head toward an open door at the top of a staircase that lead down into what Mike presumed was the basement. A dank smell emanated from below. Most everything in Plinkett’s house reeked, but this was particularly bad.

“You fucked up, buddy,” Rich said, and he caught Mike’s eye, which was enough of a signal for Mike to start creeping toward the basement stairs, pulling Jay along with him. “You messed with the wrong motherfucker.” 

“The hell are you talking about?” Plinkett asked. He turned and spotted Mike and Jay at the top of the basement stairs. “Ey! What do you two think you’re doing?”

“Avert your eyes and make a break for it, boys!” Rich shouted. “I’m about to take on my true form! Don’t look, your eyes would burn out of your skulls!”

“Jesus christ,” Mike said. He tightened his grip on Jay’s hand and bolted for the stairs.

“Wait just a goddamn minute,” Plinkett said, and then, “OH SHIT WHAT THE FUCK!”

Plinkett’s panicked screaming continued, a glaring light from the first floor illuminating the staircase and basement below as Mike and Jay dashed down into it. Mike could hear sickening eldritch horror level-snapping and bellowing noises and wasn’t remotely tempted to turn and see what the fuck Rich’s real form looked like or what was going on up there at all. 

“Look!” Jay said when they were standing in the center of the basement, which was full of more shit Mike didn’t want to look at, like bones and piles of old sheets with what looked like dried blood on them. 

Jay was pointing at the far wall, where a dirty tarp hung over a section of the bricks that lined the basement walls. It was billowing slightly, as if a soft wind blew from behind it. 

“Fuck,” Mike said, pulling Jay closer to him when he heard crashing, slamming sounds from the floor above them, which was creaking overhead as if overburdened by too much weight.

“That’s it,” Jay said, staring at the tarp. He was so mesmerized by the feeling that came from behind it that he was ignoring the shitshow going on upstairs. “That’s the portal.”

Mike could feel it, too. The hairs on his arms were standing up, and the back of his neck was tingling with a flight reflex that had nothing to do with the chaos upstairs. It was this thing in front of them that was throbbing with silent evil, so intense and choking that Mike would rather go back up to the first floor and let Rich’s unseeable angel form burn his eyes out than walk through it. 

But there was no going back. Mike turned to Jay, who was breathing a little harder, so clearly trying not to look terrified that Mike leaned down to kiss his forehead, acting on pure instinct. 

“Hurry!” Rich shouted from upstairs, breathless and hoarse. “Plinkett’s demon buddies are on their way here to stop you!” 

“Jay,” Mike said, squeezing his hand. “Don’t let go of me. No matter what happens in there.” 

Jay squeezed back and swallowed heavily, nodding. 

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We can do this.” 

Mike wasn’t so sure about that, but it didn’t matter. He swept the tarp away, revealing a sucking void of color and sound. Something lurking within it was so powerfully evil that it was making every nerve in Mike’s body scream with the need to get away from it. 

But there was something else in there, too: Jay’s soul, trapped and tormented, waiting for Mike to save him. He held tight to the part of Jay he had with him and took a step forward, waves of dark energy beating him back so forcefully that he had to grit his teeth and close his eyes before he could take the final step. Jay was holding on to Mike’s hand so tightly it hurt, but it was a good pain, a flicker of hope amidst the agony of stepping right into the depths of Hell’s darkness, and Mike clung to it as hard as he could.

**


	6. Chapter 6

“Lights!”

“Camera!”

“ _Action_!”

Garrett did this every single time they started a broadcast. Mike wanted to kill him violently pretty much every second of every day, but especially after he spoke these three words as if he was calling down some magical power. Mike played through the pain by imagining creative ways of offing Garrett. Today it involved throwing him into a pit full of hungry, flesh-eating troglodytes. 

The green light flipped on and Garrett flashed his horrifically wide smile at the three cameras that were pointed at their news desk like machine guns. Mike gave Jay a final glance before Garrett bleated out the intro. Jay was staring at the center camera and smiling obediently, eyes lifeless and posture perfect. 

“Welcome to The Nerd Crew!” Garrett shrieked, his voice drilling into Mike’s ear like an ice pick, like always. “A pop culture podcast featuring all the _freshest_ info on the _hottest_ brands in the realm-- But you all know that! I’m Garrett, and joining me as usual are Mike to my left and Jay to my right-- Now, Mike, before I say _anything_ else, can you just tell me that you’re also _freaking out_ about the new Pirates of the Carribean reboot that was announced last night? I know you’re a _huge_ fan of the franchise.” 

“That’s right, Garrett,” Mike said, though that wasn’t remotely right at fucking all. Saying so was still better than immeasurable hours of reconditioning torture, though barely. “And can I just say that the reanimated corpse of Johnny Depp has never looked better? I mean, he was of course Academy Award-worthy in his last performance, in the eighteenth installment of the previous Pirates reboot--”

“Pirates of the Carribean, New Flesh,” Garrett said, smugly, as if Mike had forgotten the name of that inescapable trash. He wished he could. 

“Exactly,” Mike said. “But this time around, wow. He looks so-- Amazing.” This was Mike’s default word, when he was too exhausted and demoralized to come up with anything else. 

“Personally, I totally agree,” Jay said, rescuing him. “I thought it was just so refreshing how familiar the story beats looked in the preview, and the return to the same villain from the original series? Genius move. It’s like it’s so expected that it’s _not_ expected, which is just brilliant.” 

It almost hurt Mike worse to hear Jay spout this shit without batting an eye than to hear it coming out of his own mouth. Jay was so good at enduring this nightmare without flinching, better than Mike and infinitely more charming than Garrett, who was like the personification of spittle flying out of a mouth. It was in Jay’s contract that he could never date or get married, just because their audience was so aggressively obsessed with wanting to fuck him. Someone would likely assassinate the object of any affection Jay accidentally expressed in private, since privacy wasn’t a real concept in their shitshow world, but that wasn’t Brand Management’s real concern. They wanted to ‘maintain the illusion’ that the hot member of their most popular show was available to whomever fantasized about him. Mike sometimes worried that they pimped Jay out behind the scenes, but he’d never had the balls to ask him outright. 

“Let’s take a moment to give some love to our sponsors,” Garrett said, lifting a bug-eyed plastic doll thing from beneath the desk. “Guys, what I’m showing you here is a brand new, exclusive look at the latest limited edition--” 

Mike zoned out. He wasn’t due to speak until the next ad break, and today felt especially hard. He had no idea how long this had been going on or how they had all gotten here. All he knew was that every day felt like an endless eternity of pain, aside from the precious seconds when he could exchange looks or snatches of too-brief off-air conversation with Jay. Their contracts were blood pacts held by demons that promised to keep them here forever, talking to the weapon-like cameras about whatever Brand Management wanted them to promote. Worse was the after-show commitments, when Mike had to go home to his “family” and be recorded having sponsored recreation time with them. As hideous as it was to spout shit about products from hell, at least Jay was here with him while he did so. All Mike really knew about anything was that he loved Jay and could never have him. This was another layer of torture on the shitcake that was his life, but the bittersweet pain of it at least meant he had one thing in his world that kept him going like a little flicker of light, even if it burned him, too. 

“That’s a wrap!” Garrett shouted when the green light finally went off. Mike imagined bludgeoning him with a limited edition piece of bronze-cast collector crap. He pushed away from his microphone and looked longingly at Jay, who was drinking from a plastic cup with a pirate on it. 

“Okay, notes,” Garrett said, bringing his hands together under his chin. “Mike, we’ve talked about the stubble. I need you to be clean-shaven every time we record.”

“That’s impossible,” Mike said. He tried, he really did. Garrett pretended to care about them, which was an extra sting of insult that made Mike hate him more, but he was their ‘supervisor’ and would report them to Brand Management for Behavior Adjustment Therapy if they strayed out of line. Therapy was torture, literally. Everything here was. 

“Mhm, I don’t like that attitude,” Garrett said. “Anything’s possible when we take advantage of our wonderful Brands! Have you tried the--”

“I’ve tried everything. Believe me. It grows back within in an hour, it’s like I’m fucking cursed.”

“Hey, okay, I hear you, I’ll look into this for you, buddy.”

I bet you fucking will, Mike thought, bracing himself for a therapy session that would involve stripping several layers of his skin off, or worse.

“Jay, my only note for you is that you sounded a _little_ sarcastic when you brought up the original villain being in the new Pirates movie,” Garrett said, turning to him. “Am I imagining things here, or does somebody maybe need a sincerity tune-up?”

“Oh, geez,” Jay said, feigning a sad expression that Garrett would probably buy. Jay always got off easier; Garrett had a whole harem made up exclusively of women back at his lair, but nobody was immune to Jay’s cuteness. “Sorry about that, boss,” Jay said, bringing his fingers to his lips as if to scold himself. “I guess sometimes my excitement can sound a little, um. Too earnest to be true?”

“Oh sure, we’ve all been there! No worries, pal, I hear you.”

Mike would hate Jay for being so good at this if he didn’t love him so much, and if the thought of Jay getting a ‘tune-up’ from Brand Management wasn’t so much worse than enduring one himself. 

When Garrett was done with his notes, Mike made for the studio restroom as usual. It was small and relatively unkept, despite the squeaky-cleanness of their on-camera surroundings. The windowless little room was still Mike’s favorite place in the known universe, because it was the only place without cameras that he was allowed to visit. Even the bathrooms in his creepy McMansion were monitored, though what went on in there rarely showed up on the daily ‘highlight reels’ of his private life that premium level subscribers had access to.

It wasn’t just the potential for alone time that made him love this little room. It was also the only place where he could talk to Jay. 

Mike washed his hands at the sink, hating the stubble-darkened reflection of himself in the mirror. He was outfitted head to toe in garish advertisements masquerading as clothing, everything splashed with logos and characters from the biggest Brands. His heart was pounding when he turned off the water and listened anxiously for Jay’s footsteps in the hallway outside. Sometimes Garrett wouldn’t let Jay escape for this precious break from shilling, and Jay had to be careful about offending him. If he tipped his hand and seemed to prefer Mike’s company to Garrett’s, there would be passive aggressive hell to pay. Everyone who knew Jay had to think they were secretly his favorite person, the audience included. Mike could relate, but he had to believe that Jay really cared about him. He grinned when he heard Jay’s quick footsteps outside, dried his hands and turned toward the door.

Mike tried not to beam like an idiot when Jay slipped inside and sighed with what looked like relief when he saw Mike waiting for him. If Mike could harness even a fraction of the sincere joy he felt at the sight of Jay while advertising their products, he’d shill with all his heart till the day he died. As it was, he felt like he was digging his own grave when he grit his teeth and tried to act like he gave a fuck about anything except the person standing in front of him in this cramped, dingy room. 

“Garrett got a call from Management,” Jay said, and hurriedly added, “Not about us!” when he saw the panicked look on Mike’s face. “Just about some new shit to sell.” 

Mike wanted to get down on his knees and kiss Jay’s feet just for the sweet sound of the truth, that the products they peddled were shit. Everyone knew it, including Brand Management. Lying for a living was brutal, and Jay was the only person Mike ever got to talk truthfully with. He told himself it was enough, and that he should stop thinking maybe one day he could grab Jay, throw him on the sink counter and fuck his brains out. 

“Is there something about Garrett that seems demonic to you?” Mike asked, keeping his voice low just in case.

“Are you kidding me?” Jay’s eyes got wide. “Is there anything about him that doesn’t?”

Mike laughed, and his heart lifted when Jay smiled at him. They stood there looking at each other and fidgeting in awkward silence for a moment after the mirth had drained away. 

“How’s it going at your place?” Mike asked, meaning the swank bachelor pad that Mike joined millions of others in obsessively watching footage of during the nightly highlight reel broadcasts of Jay’s manufactured ‘rec time.’ 

Jay shrugged. “Same as ever. Nothing changes. How about you, uh. How’s your wife.”

Mike made a face that communicated his disinterest in the subject. His wife was basically a robot. He couldn’t remember marrying her, or even signing a contract with Brand Management agreeing to say that he would. She was brand appropriate for their family rec time segments, gorgeous and agreeable and half his age. He was pretty sure she wasn’t old enough to have actually given birth to the sarcastic pre-teens that he had supposedly fathered, a boy and girl whose appearance was constantly shifting, either due to facial augmenting products or recasting. They were always treating Mike like he was an idiot and kicking him in the balls. That was Mike’s brand: getting kicked in the balls while on sponsored tropical vacations with his family. Jay’s brand was being attractively lonely and constantly available for his fans’ incessantly repetitive, probing questions. Up close, Mike could see Jay had bags under his eyes that the makeup they wore on camera couldn’t entirely conceal. 

“Have you been sleeping?” Mike asked, stepping a little closer.

Jay shrugged. “I feel like I haven’t slept in, uhh. Twenty or so years? I don’t know what happened to the passage of time. Something bad.”

“I feel like it wasn’t always this way,” Mike said, whispering. “But I can’t remember why, or how, or when it was different.”

Jay nodded tiredly, staring up at Mike with some kind of longing in his eyes. He was probably just longing for sleep, Mike thought. Probably it had nothing to do with Mike himself. 

“What did we do to deserve this?” Jay asked. There was so much defeat in his eyes even as he asked, because he knew Mike didn’t have an answer. It made Mike want to die, then made him wonder for the millionth time if he already had and was in Hell. 

“I’m sure you didn’t do anything,” he said, keeping his Hell thoughts to himself as usual. It felt dangerous to talk about anything off brand at all, especially his paranoia. 

“I just feel so--” Jay started to say, but he cut himself off when they heard footsteps in the hallway. 

“Fuck,” Mike said. He grabbed Jay’s shoulders and moved him toward the stalls. “Go in there, I’ll leave.”

“Yeah-- Okay-- Bye.”

Jay hurried to do as Mike had said. Mike took one last look at him and turned to leave the bathroom, almost smacking Garrett in the face with the door as he exited. 

“Whoa there, buddy!” Garrett said, giving Mike the fakey friendly smile he always had on his face, even when handing down orders from Brand Management that amounted to unbearable physical torture. “So that’s where you disappeared to. Everything okay with your digestion?”

“Ugh-- Yes. Thanks for asking.” 

“‘Cause I’ve noticed you always run for the toilet after a broadcast!” Garrett said, calling this after Mike as he retreated.

Mike froze in the hallway. 

“Seems kinda like an issue Jay has as well,” Garrett said when Mike turned back to him. “Maybe you guys should drink less Vita Soda before we start taping.”

“Maybe,” Mike said. He felt his hands tightening into fists and forced himself to uncurl his fingers. If Garrett took away Mike’s one joy in life, the one minute per day he had something to look forward to, his sacred time with Jay--

Mike didn’t want to finish this thought. He was powerless. If Garrett took things away, Mike would just have less. That was all. 

“Todeloo!” Garrett called, waving before ducking into the bathroom. Mike heard a toilet flush inside. He longed to stay in the hallway and wait for Jay to come out, even just so he could meet Jay’s eyes one last time before he returned to the empty wasteland that was his ‘personal’ life, but he didn’t dare it after Garrett’s veiled threat. He left, reentering the care of his silent handlers, tail tucked firmly between his legs as usual.

By design, the handlers never spoke to him. Mike had found it unnerving at some point, but now he appreciated that he didn’t have to exchange phony pleasantries with them. They were both massive bodyguard-type men in dark suits who never removed their sunglasses. He was pretty sure he’d tried to escape from their suffocating surveillance of him once or twice, and that he couldn’t remember the details of the torture that followed because it had just been that bad. Sometimes he thought he must be exaggerating or even imagining the horrors that Brand Management used to keep him in line. He didn’t have a single scar to show for it. 

Nothing about his life made sense or even really felt like a life. He’d accepted this, mostly. Sometimes he lay awake in bed at night, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Jay locked away alone in that bachelor pad prison, at best, and tried to muster some kind of method of rebellion that would free both of them and enable them to run away together. He wasn’t sure where he could run to; Brand Management controlled every inch of the known realm. Garrett sometimes fretted that they might age out of their tastemaker roles and be replaced with a younger Nerd Crew, but Mike knew that was a false hope. Everything felt eternal, including his own age. 

His wife was waiting for him at the door of their house as always, smiling and waving like she was in a commercial. Effectively, she was, and Mike was pretty sure she was a handler herself, responsible for monitoring him while the suited-up handlers stayed outside. Her name was Mikayla, she was blond and tiny, and Mike knew nothing about her except for her many passionate feelings on the Brands. 

“Great show, babe!” she said, leaning up to kiss his cheek as he entered the house. “Wow, I can’t wait for that Pirates movie! We’ve gotta make the red carpet premiere for that one!”

“I’m sure we will,” Mike muttered, with dread. 

The kids met him in the foyer, each of them taking a turn to tell him about a new product they had enjoyed during the day. Cameras recorded everything this grotesque simulacrum of a family did, so no mention of merchandise was wasted. All the best takes would be cut together for the highlight reel and broadcast as evening entertainment for those who had paid for the bonus package that included it. 

Mike was never not working, everything he did in the interest of selling something: the games he played with the kids, which he always lost because he was the doddering useless father, and kids who bought these games wanted to see their peers outsmart him, the logo-covered clothing he wore even when he wasn’t at the recording studio, and the dinner he helped Mikayla cook, every component a disgustingly additive-laden monstrosity that barely resembled real food. He wasn’t sure why they all weren’t fat and dying of diabetes, except that nothing they did seemed to have any lasting consequences. 

After dinner, he was supposed to watch programming that he’d advertised via the Nerd Crew show. He turned it on dutifully and gathered on the family room sofa with the others, five boxes on the left side of the screen showing Bonus Programming, one of which was Jay’s highlight reel for the day. Mike’s daughter had a crush on Jay, or at least had been told by her own handlers that she should behave as if she did. This was the only reason Mike was allowed the redundancy of watching Jay’s highlight reel himself, because Brand Management was selling Jay as a sex object via his daughter’s dreamy sighs. 

Mike ignored everything on the screen except the images of Jay, including the inane dialogue Jay had to spew as he showcased his own ‘personal’ products. It didn’t matter if Jay was singing the praises of exercise equipment or a toilet brush. Mike’s heart would sing and ache at the same time, watching Jay’s face light up with fake glee while he talked, the sound muted in favor of the main programming. Mike liked to pretend that Jay watched his highlight reels, too, or somehow otherwise knew that Mike spent his evenings watching Jay’s. This way Mike could almost believe that all Jay’s smiles and sweet looks at the camera were really for him. 

He knew it was pathetic, but it got him through the night. He tried beating off occasionally but could only ever drive himself to madness by making himself hard and close to orgasm, never going over the edge. He was pretty sure Brand Management was drugging him in some way that made climax impossible. 

Mikayla’s complete disinterest in sex was a relief. She was hot, but Mike wasn’t entirely convinced she was a real person who could consent. 

She did like to cuddle, for the purpose of pillow talk featured on the highlight reel, and Mike took some small comfort from the maybe-human contact, though her perfect skin was never as warm as he thought it should be. 

“Can I ask you something?” he said, off script, when they were in bed together that night. He was thinking about what Garrett had said to him in the hallway after the broadcast, and how little would be left for him without those hurried talks with Jay. 

“Of course, honey,” Mikayla said, stroking Mike’s stubble. Her head was resting on his chest, one of her shapely legs hooked attractively over his. “Did you want some more Thero-Rub for your back? I know you had a long day, and Thero-Rub’s patented formula--”

“No, it’s not that,” Mike said, cutting her off in a way that he knew was dangerous. He didn’t care, he had to say something or was going to start to doubt his own humanity. “What, uh. What do you think of Jay?”

“Jay?” He felt her tense up a little, the way she always did when she wasn’t sure how to get him back on script. “Why, I think he’s a wonderful addition to your show! He’s so knowledgeable about pop culture, and he has such fun things to say.”

“He does have fun things to say.” Mike’s heart felt so fucking heavy. It was true, she just didn’t know it. “I just, I. I think our daughter has a crush on him.”

Mike could never remember either of the kids’ fucking names. Mikayla didn’t seem to care.

“Oh, how funny!” Mikayla’s giggle was adorable and infuriating all at once. “Babe, are you worried that I think Jay is more handsome than you? Don’t be silly, you’re the one for me! You’re a different type, that’s all, like the man in the Bearskin Bulldozer commercials--” 

“This isn’t about me,” Mike said. “I just think he’s great. It’ll make me happy if you do, too.” 

He could feel Mikayla’s intense confusion and almost felt sorry for her. 

“Then you should be happy!” she said, chirpy again. “Because I also think he’s great. Too bad he can’t find the right man or woman! I’m sure they’re out there somewhere. Heck, maybe they watch your show and dream about him the way Stacey does!” 

“Stacey? Oh, yeah.” The daughter. “Maybe.” 

Mike wasn’t sure what he wanted from this poor creature. She had no idea what he was talking about and never would. He kissed the top of her head and felt her drift into effortless sleep. He would be awake for hours, if he got to sleep at all. 

He didn’t dream anymore, but when the house quieted down at night he sometimes felt like he could almost go to dream-like places. They were almost like memories, or fragments of visions. Some of them had reoccured so often that Mike was able to return to them when he was alone with his thoughts. One involved a fast food restaurant that didn’t feel like the disgusting ones he shilled for. It felt instead like a sacred temple where he’d left a piece of his heart sometime long ago. Another of these lost empires in his mind was a shop that filled him with a cozy sense of belonging that no soulless place of business in the realm had ever given him. Mostly these scraps of comfort were images of Jay, probably nothing more than daydreams or wishful thinking but sometimes so real-feeling in his mind it was like he’d lived them in some other, better place: Jay laughing so hard that his eyes leaked, and getting drunk with Mike while watching movies on a sofa, no cameras recording their reactions. Sometimes Mike felt almost sure that he had run his hand through Jay’s hair just once, long ago, and had gasped, or moaned, or cried, or something, because it was so soft.

Another day dawned, same as the last: Mikayla cooking abominations that approximated breakfast food downstairs while the kids had an argument about which flavor of Vita Soda they liked best, which resolved in an agreement that all its flavors were amazing enough to be passionate about. The TV on the kitchen counter blasted advertisements for the new Pirates movie, the new Star Wars movie, the new Wolverine movie, until it all mixed together in a pukey swirl of oversaturated colors and bombastic taglines that made Mike want to throw his plate against the wall the moment Mikayla set it down in front of him.

Something had to give, he thought, staring down at the peanut butter banana stuffed cookie toast on his plate. If Garrett tried to police his precious, paltry time post-broadcast with Jay, Mike would lose it.

But he’d lost it before, a nasty, mocking voice at the back of his mind reminded him. And it had only earned him reconditioning torture before resetting everything. 

The handlers escorted him to the studio at the usual time. The Nerd Crew did a broadcast every day, which often meant they had to repackage the same witless shit they’d said the day before as if it was new information, if there was no new announcement about a reimagined product that had been released in fifteen iterations already but now starred younger actors, or had a different coat of paint on its cheap plastic parts, or just had ten minutes of bonus special edition footage tacked on so saps would buy the same thing again. 

Mike’s stomach was knotting up as he walked into the studio. He knew he was being watched extra carefully, that he should heed Garrett’s subtle warning about his trips to the bathroom to have unauthorized chitchat with his co-host. He wasn’t sure what Brand Management was afraid of, or why he wasn’t allowed to have a friendship with Jay off set that involved the two of them trying out new products together, still selling but doing it in tandem and away from Garrett’s oppressive presence. Maybe there was something between them that had been judged too authentic and therefore unpredictable. Mike wanted to believe this, but feared it was only wishful thinking. In his darkest moments he imagined Jay laughing with the Brand Managers about how they’d successfully managed to sell fantasies about Jay even to one of his co-hosts.

Thinking about this while seated in his place at the news desk and allowing the makeup tech to powder his cheeks, Mike stared at Jay and started to feel desperate. When he asked to run to the bathroom before the taping started, he was sincerely feeling sick, like he might have to puke up the too-sweet mess he’d consumed for breakfast or risk barfing all over the Nerd Crew desk during the broadcast. 

His head was spinning when he was alone in the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror. Despite shaving that morning, the stubble had grown back. He ran his hand over it and imagined Jay’s tongue caressing his cheek, Jay’s little body trembling against his own, Jay telling him that things would be okay somehow, staring up into Mike’s eyes with that sweetness that didn’t exist anywhere else in this realm. The light in Jay’s eyes was the only thing Mike knew of that didn’t come from the pit of cynical tar that seemed to comprise everything else.

“Are you okay?” 

Mike was so lost in his own confused despair that he hadn’t heard Jay coming. He whirled around with a shocked expression that made Jay laugh a little before he stepped into the bathroom, holding his hands out like he thought Mike might pitch forward and pass out. 

“What are you doing?” Mike asked. He stopped himself from grabbing Jay’s outstretched hands and glanced at the door. “Garrett let you come back here?”

“I said I was going to check on you. I know I’m totally fucked, for doing it-- Yesterday he told me not to follow you back here after broadcasts.”

“He fucking said that?”

“Not in so many words, but he basically threatened me with Brand Appreciation Therapy if I didn’t stop.” 

“Fuck. I knew it. You shouldn’t be back here, then. Jay, please. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” Jay said, though he looked nervous, more pale than usual. “Mike. I’m so fucked up anyway, I feel like-- I keep thinking I remember they did something awful to my hands last time, in the reconditioning?” Jay lifted his hands and looked down at them, flexed his fingers. “Like they basically ruined them, or cut them off, or something. But that’s impossible, right? I mean. They’re right here.” 

“Let me see,” Mike said, softly, as if it was up to him to check and make sure this was true.

Mike felt the whole world sort of throb around him with a gathering intensity when he took Jay’s little hands in his and turned them over, rubbing his thumbs across Jay’s palms to check that they were warm and real. They were, in a way that nothing else Mike had touched in recent memory had been. When he looked up and met Jay’s eyes again, he could see that Jay felt it, too. 

“What,” Jay said helplessly, his voice wavering. 

“I don’t know,” Mike said. He pinched his eyes shut and sort of growled at the back of his throat, threading his fingers through Jay’s and tugging him closer. “Fuck that, I do know. Jay. Me and you. We’re different. We’re not supposed to be here.”

“Yeah,” Jay said, breathing this out with relief and nodding frantically. “I think you’re right.” 

He stepped even closer and squeezed Mike’s hands. Mike could feel the heat of him like a bonfire, where their hands touched and everywhere. It was filling Mike with an unfamiliar but powerful confidence, a kind of building rage that had a purpose. He wouldn’t let anything rip this feeling away from him. Jay was his to protect and comfort and to take comfort in. It was the only truth that survived in this nightmare. 

“I know everybody loves you,” Mike said, keeping his voice low as he brought his face close to Jay’s. “But not like I do. Everybody else wants to take you apart and own a collector’s item piece of you. I just want to get you away from here and not let anybody else have the tiniest fucking bit of you.” 

“Nobody out there loves me,” Jay said, shaking his head. “None of them cares what happens to me.” 

“But I do, fuck, please, believe me--” 

Mike kissed Jay on the mouth, hoping to prove it. Jay let go of Mike’s hands, but only so he could grab Mike’s face. He moaned into the kiss and opened for Mike’s tongue like he’d been waiting years to have it pushing gently through his lips. 

“Oh god,” Jay said when Mike pulled back to check his eyes, wanting to make sure they were filled with the same needy disbelief that Mike felt. “Nobody’s touched me in so long,” Jay said, whispering. He shivered and closed his eyes when Mike grabbed his waist and pressed their bodies together. 

“Good,” Mike said. “I was afraid--” He didn’t even want to say it. 

“It hurts, though,” Jay said, his voice breaking. “Not having-- Never getting-- And now, even, to finally have you, ah. Feels so good it _hurts_ , fuck.” 

Mike kissed him again anyway, nodding. He understood. Jay kissed back and rubbed against Mike like a lunatic, like he’d forgotten how to be close someone else but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying. There were footsteps in the hallway, approaching. Mike was sure Jay heard them, too. Neither of them let go or broke the kiss. If they were going to be punished anyway, they might as well milk every second from this moment of wrenching relief.

The door opened, and Mike moved Jay away from it instinctively, protective and ready for a fight, his hands still cupped around Jay’s upturned face. 

“Oh, fucking finally!” Garrett said, stepping inside. He turned and put something on the door’s handle, an unfamiliar device that looked like it was made of iron, some kind of old-fashioned lock. 

“Gonna torture us personally this time?” Mike asked, stepping between Garrett and Jay. He didn’t care if his reconditioning session was multiplied by ten, as long as it meant he’d get to deck Garrett in this smug face at least once. 

“Look, guys,” Garrett said, holding up both hands. “I’m real sorry about the torture. I had to let it happen so nobody would get suspicious.”

“Suspicious of what?” Jay asked. He was still hovering behind Mike and peeking at Garrett from around Mike’s bicep. The fact that Jay was allowing him to be his human shield made Mike feel like he could take on every evil in the realm with his bare hands. 

“Guys!” Garrett said, beaming for some reason. “You did it! You broke out of the loop!”

“Huh?” Mike said. 

“You confessed your feelings!” Garrett said, smiling up at Mike. “That buys us some time, but not much. I can help you get through to the next level of Hell, but I can’t go there with you. This one--” 

“Wait,” Jay said, grabbing Mike’s arm. He squeezed, hard. It felt incredibly good, like proof that they were stronger than this place. “Are we seriously-- Is this really Hell?”

“Yes! And I’m your guardian angel, by the way! Hi!”

Mike and Jay stared at him. Mike almost felt like laughing. Something was coming back to him, and it was bad, heavy, but also a relief. It was the truth about where they were, and why. As soon as they’d fallen into Hell their minds got miserably blanked, but outside of that loop their memories still existed.

“Wait,” Mike said, glad that Jay was holding on to him, because otherwise he might have been knocked right on his face by the force of his renewed guilt and horror about what he’d done to get them here. “Jay, he’s lying. Rich told us angels would disintegrate if they entered Hell.”

“That’s right!” Garrett said, holding up a finger in the same obnoxious way he did when he made a condescending statement on Nerd Crew. “I had to give up my immortality to get in here, and had to work for the demons to get close to you guys. Only it was a ruse, you see! I was able to make this area a neutral zone, this bathroom thing we’re standing in right now, so you guys wouldn’t totally lose the threads that lead back to your souls--”

“Wait,” Jay said, stepping around Mike and moving a little closer to Garrett, squinting. “You’re my, uh. Guardian? You?”

“Yes! Jay, I’m so proud of you. Mike, I forgive you completely. You guys did it, you finally did it. I couldn’t tell you what was going on, you had to break the loop yourselves to get your memories back, so you’d know what to do next.” 

“What the fuck?” Mike said, afraid to let his spinning mind settle on the idea that they might actually have a chance of breaking free from this place. The disorientation of spending an immeasurable amount of time trapped in Hell was making him doubt every certainty that had begun to resurface. 

“This is just the first layer of Hell that you have to pass through,” Garrett said. “When I came down here to try and help save Jay’s soul, I had to give up my most of my powers along with my immortality-- You’re welcome, Jay.”

“Uh,” Jay said. “Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it! Anyway, I got this Nerd Crew job so I’d be able to help you guys once you snapped out of the loop, which, guess what, is happening now. We’d better hurry. What’s left of my powers are pretty paltry down here, and that lock won’t keep the real demons out for long. Follow me.”

“Wait, hang on,” Mike said, grabbing Jay’s arm when he started in Garrett’s direction. “How do we know we can trust you? You’ve been one of our tormenters for-- How fucking long have we been down here, even?”

“Time doesn’t exist here, Mike! It’s all about the _feeling_ of everything unpleasant lasting forever, but it’s actually, you know, not happening at all. This is the falling through a void level of Hell, boys. You haven’t even landed yet!”

“It was pretty fucking real for us!” Jay said, frowning down at his undamaged hands again. “I mean. If it felt real, it was, sorta--”

“I can’t get into the mechanics of reality with you two right now! Just think of it as a bad nightmare that it took a while to wake up from. C’mon, the way out is over here.” 

“Where’s Rich?” Mike asked, casting a nervous glance at Jay.

“He’s back up on Earth,” Garrett said. “Holding that minion of Satan at bay.”

“Mr. Plinkett?” Jay said. 

“Shhh!” Garrett whirled around and made an expansive forbidding gesture with his hands. He was no less annoyingly over the top now that they knew he was trying to help them, at least to Mike. “Don’t speak the names of demonic servants here, you might summon them!”

“Okay!” Mike said, glowering at him. “Any other tips?”

“Just remember what you learned here when you pass through the next level of Hell. It won’t be like this, where you can’t remember reality. I’m not sure what it will be like, exactly, but you have to rise to the occasion rather than lowering yourself. Every time you lashed out here and, like, threw a microphone at me in anger, it only extended your torture.”

“Well, maybe you could have helped us out by not making me want to throw a microphone at your face every time you spoke.”

“Mike!” Jay tugged on his arm and frowned. “Don’t be a dick right now! Listen to him!”

“Wait, does Jay have his soul back?” Mike asked, because Jay had kissed him like he did.

Garrett shook his head sadly. “You should be able to find yours somewhere in the next level, Mike. But Jay’s is way deeper, in a kind of no man’s land. I can’t go there at all, they’d be onto me in a second. The demons on this lesser level are easier to fool.”

“Lesser?” Jay’s eyes bugged out. “So you mean it’ll be worse, going forward?”

“That’s a safe bet, but don’t despair! I believe in you guys! I know you hate me right now, because that delusion made it seem like I was complicit in your torture and so forth, but, you know what? When it comes down to it, after all this not-really-time together? You guys are my best friends.” 

Garrett looked like he would cry, or try to hug them. Mike held his arm across Jay’s chest to prevent this.

“What do we do now?” Mike asked, looking around the cramped bathroom. There were two stalls, the sink counter, and not much else. If they had to be flushed down a toilet to access the next level of Hell, he wouldn’t be entirely surprised. He just wasn’t sure how they’d fit.

“You’ll go through here,” Garrett said, turning for the wall. He touched his palm to it. The wall flickered and disappeared, revealing a dark, cave-like passageway.

“Fuck!” Mike said, furious. “That’s been here the whole time? You only had to touch it?”

“No, silly! You two had to do the real work first. If I’d tried to shove you through to the next level without breaking out of the loop, your bodies would have been instantly immolated and your souls would have had no place to be stuffed back into. Man, and, no offense, but I really didn’t think it would take you this long to just confess your feelings within the void. You’re so obsessed with each other. But also so obstinate! I think that’s the combo that set these demons after you in the first place--”

There was a slamming sound that made all three of them jump, coming from the bathroom door. Someone out in the hallway was trying the handle, then slamming themselves against the door again. 

“Uh oh,” Garrett said. He looked scared. Mike almost felt bad for him, but not really. “You guys go!” he said, pointing to the passageway. “I can’t come with you, but I’ll deal with these assholes and meet you later, after you’ve found Jay’s soul.”

“Wait-- How are we going to know what to do?” Mike asked.

“You’re just going to have to figure it out, the way you did here! I’ve helped as much as I could, I’m afraid. I should be able to find you again one you both have your souls. Then we can leave together, fingers crossed. You can do it! Oh shit.”

The bathroom door was breaking. Mike looked at Jay, who nodded once.

“Garrett,” Jay said. “Thanks. For real.”

“Thank me when you’ve got your soul back, buddy! And go-- Now, hurry! That passageway should take you directly to your next test.”

Mike groaned at that word. He’d never been good at tests. He understood as they walked into the dark doorway Garrett had opened for them that the test had been solely for him: Jay hadn’t confessed, really, and was still soulless. Mike supposed he was, too, but this was about what he wanted with his body-based self, and even saying that, here, to a Jay who was only half of himself, had taken him what felt like years, outside of time but real enough that he was exhausted already as he moved toward his next trial.

The door behind them closed once they’d entered the tunnel, throwing them into pitch black darkness. 

Jay sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed Mike’s hand. Mike squeezed back, feeling for the wall of the passageway with his other hand. It was close, the cave-like area just wide enough for them to stand next to each other, shoulder to shoulder. 

“What now?” Jay asked, feeling for Mike’s chest in the dark. “We just keep walking?”

“I guess so.” Mike wondered if it would be bad form to kiss Jay a little more before they continued, just in case it was his last ever chance. He decided that this kind of thinking would probably doom them and only reached out to gently touch Jay’s hair. “You okay?”

“I think so. It’s weird. I felt like I was in that nightmare for a thousand years, but as soon as Garrett explained what was going on it all just felt like a bad dream.” 

“Yeah. Hell is a fucking head trip.” Mike felt both like he’d just awakened from a years-long coma and like he’d run back to back marathons over burning coals, but the illusions within that loop seemed felt so far away already, suddenly as harmless as broken cobwebs. “What do you think is waiting for us at the end of this tunnel?”

“Hopefully not something worse than Nerd Crew.”

“Mhm,” Mike said, feeling like it was definitely going to be worse.

They kept walking, holding hands as they moved through the dark. Mike was feeling his way along the wall closest to him as they went, cautiously running his fingertips over the smooth stone. He flinched at moments, afraid that he would suddenly be touching something warm and fleshy or blood-soaked, not sure what sort of nightmare awaited them ahead. There was still no light or sound, just a cold sense of emptiness and a long way to go.

“What is this place?” Jay asked. “A secret pathway?”

“Garrett must have made it for us, or maybe it was already here. Not sure I trust that guy.” 

“I hated him when he was our Nerd Crew boss,” Jay said. “But as soon as he started talking about being my guardian, and really being here to help us, it felt true. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, because though he wanted to deny it, he felt the same certainty. “It’s like when Rich showed up at that bar. As soon as he started dropping truth bombs, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t get it. Jay, I’m so fucking sorry I got you into this. And I’m sorry it took us so long to break out of that nightmare back there. It’s my fault. I should have just grabbed you and kissed you on a broadcast, instead of trying to kill Garrett however many times. I’m such a dumbass.”

“It’s not about being dumb. You were afraid I wouldn’t love you back.” 

Mike remembered what Rich said on the bus. Don’t be a coward. He had to remember that, whatever happened next. He wasn’t easily scared, and was too prone to taking dangerous risks in a lot of ways, except when it came to Jay. Of course Hell had used this, his biggest weakness, to torture him. They would probably use it again, more brutally. Mike had to be ready.

“Are you scared?” he asked Jay when they’d been walking for a long time with no end in sight.

“Yeah,” Jay said. “But it’s better than feeling stuck. All I ever thought about in that Nerd Crew hellscape was how much I wanted to be with you. I don’t think I was allowed to confess, though. Something external would have stopped me. It was a test for you, feels like.”

“Yep,” Mike said, hating himself all over again. “This is all about what I did. Sorry you’re along for the ride.”

“You said that already.” Jay sighed. “I can’t speak for, you know. My soul, or whatever. But this part of me is glad we’re together, at least. Whatever happens next.” 

When a pinprick of reddish light appeared up ahead, they both stopped walking for a moment. Mike took a deep breath and reminded himself of his mantra: don’t be a coward.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, squeezing Jay’s hand as they moved forward again. “Your soul is waiting.”

“Yours, too,” Jay said, and Mike snorted. He kept forgetting that he was currently soulless. The whole thing made little sense to him, because he wasn’t sure what reinserting his soul was going to change, exactly. He would feel worse about everything he had done? It didn’t seem possible. 

The light in the distance grew brighter and wider as they kept walking. Mike slowed down at moments, when he thought about how something up there might try to hurt Jay. Already the specific periods of torture he’d undergone in the Nerd Crew hellscape felt like old nightmares that hadn’t really happened to him, but the memories of feeling small and hopeless were still with him, even if whatever had been done to him physically had never been real. It was blurred out in his mind, and maybe it would return in time to haunt him if they made it out of here. It was strangely unconcerning, in the meantime, but the idea of Jay keeping any of this trauma with him in even the smallest way made Mike want to sink to his knees in despair. And they weren’t even halfway through this place.

When they were in sight of the area ahead they stopped, twenty or so feet back from looked like a rocky cliff. There were other rocks in the distance, reddish and jagged, with a hazy grey sky overhead. Mike could smell something like ash, maybe from volcanic activity. 

“Stay here,” Mike said, taking Jay’s shoulders and pressing them against the wall of the tunnel they had walked through. Now they could see it was made of shiny, dark rock. “I’ll go see if the coast is clear.”

“It won’t be!” Jay said, scowling. “This is Hell, Mike. Whatever’s out there is the next obstacle we have to get past, and it’s gonna be bad. And I don’t, I can’t-- Ah. Mike, you can’t leave me. Remember?”

Jay put his hands over Mike’s, on his shoulders, and peered up at him with a kind of helpless faith that made Mike want to die. He wished he had even a tenth of that faith in himself. 

“Just,” Mike said, swallowing heavily. “Just don’t want to see you get hurt anymore.” 

“There’s no getting around it if we want our souls back. Of course it’s going to hurt.”

Mike nodded. Jay was good at bluntly accepting reality, even in this state. Maybe having his soul trapped elsewhere, far away, was tapping him into some elemental truths. 

“He’ll never forgive me,” Mike said, accepting this as he said so, staring down into Jay’s face. 

“Don’t be so sure,” Jay said. “I’m part of him, and I forgive you. He’ll want to have you with him after all this, for comfort. He’ll want that down to his bones. It’ll be hard to ignore.”

“Yeah, well, that sucks, too, because he deserves better.”

“Let’s work all that out after we get out of here, yeah? C’mon.”

Jay lead Mike toward the edge of the cliff, holding his hand. Mike stood beside him, peering down into the arena below.

“Oh, fuck,” Mike said, though the sight had initially lifted his spirts. That lift had to be an evil trick, though, like being able to stare at Jay from across the ravine of the Nerd Crew desk, so close but so far away, making being near to him another kind of torture.

“What?” Jay asked, tugging on Mike’s hand. “I don’t see anything. Just rocks.”

“It’s-- It’s Star Trek, Jay. I think. ‘The Arena.’ I guess they’re gonna let Gorn eat me, or something.” 

“Wrong as fucking usual!” someone shouted, from down in the rocky valley below.

A chill shot down the back of Mike’s neck and all the way down his spine, not only because they were in Hell and someone unseen was calling out to them with menace in his voice. The set of one of Star Trek’s most iconic episodes wasn’t the only thing he recognized here, suddenly.

“Was that--?” Jay said, frowning.

Before he could voice the certainty that had chilled through Mike’s bones, a black, faceless, snake-like thing shot up from beneath the edge of the cliff, wrapped around Jay’s ankle so fast that Mike couldn’t even scream before it had ripped Jay clear away from him, snapping Jay’s hand out of his with a kind of electric shock that was so painful that Mike thought at least one of them had just had their hand ripped clean off at the wrist.

“Mike!” Jay screamed, reaching for him with both hands as he was pitched through the air by the tentacle, tossed by it like a ragdoll only to be caught from another one that had emerged from one of the rock faces below, wrapping around his waist and pulling him down to smack against the rock wall, so hard that it seemed to knock him out. 

Mike was in shock but already moving, flinging himself over the cliff wall and landing hard on a ledge some ten feet below. The sharp twinge of pain in his ankle wasn’t good, but no part of him was surprised by the confirmation that they could both be physically hurt in this area, while the pain they’d known before had more dreamlike, inflicted only in their minds before it evaporated to leave just mental scars behind. At least he still had both his hands, the shock that had made him let go of Jay still rattling through him as he scrambled down to the floor of the valley, landing hard again. 

By then, the thing he had feared when he heard that mocking voice had stepped out in the open, smirking at him and standing between him and Jay, who was twitching and moaning in pain, held tight against the rock by multiple winding tentacles that pulsed evilly against his attempts to squirm in their grip.

The horror that stood between them, staring Mike down and smiling with satisfaction, was Mike himself. Only not. He was a different Mike: far trimmer but very strong-looking, with muscles that bulged from the sleeves of his tight black t-shirt, his chest broader than Mike’s just for not also being saggy. There was no beer gut. His hair had not receded, though he appeared to be about Mike’s age, not just a younger version of him. There was a little grey over his temples, but it only made him more attractive, the rest of his hair still dark and thick, neatly styled. His eyes were bright and intelligent and scary, with no hint of doubt that he wasn’t the most powerful person present. His five o’clock shadow was the perfect dusting of extra manliness, neither fussily sculpted nor lazy-looking. He was Mike, only better.

“Yeah, take in, you shitstain,” the other Mike said. “This is what you coulda been if you weren’t such a fuckup.”

“Jay,” Mike called, trying not to let his growing terror overwhelm him. He took a step toward Jay and froze when the other Mike blocked his path. “Jay!” Mike called, holding the stare of the other Mike. It made him shiver all over just to meet his eyes. 

“Wha,” Jay said, twitching groggily. The tentacles moved against him, audibly slick, holding him in place. “Muh, Mike--” 

“I’m here, baby,” the other Mike said, half turning toward Jay. “I gotcha. Just gotta get rid of the inferior attempt at a man that tried to ruin your life, then me and you can be together like we should have been. You deserve much better than this--” He gave Mike a once-over, sneering and seeming to search for the appropriate insult. “Ugh, god. It’s hard to even look at him, you know? Of course you do.”

Mike’s eyes darted from the ones that looked just like his, only meaner and not even a little afraid, to Jay, who was blinking heavily and twisting in the bonds that had emerged from the rocks to entangle him. 

“Mike,” Jay said weakly. “I’m, ah, what--”

“He’s cold,” Mike said to the superior version of himself. “Let me-- You have to--”

“That’s your fault, idiot,” the other Mike said, stepping closer in a way that made Mike want to retreat. “Do him a favor and let me beat you right out of existence. I can take care of him from here on. ‘Cause you know what I am, right? I’m the you that would have existed if your chickenshit, worthless ass had ever had enough of a spine to make a move on him.”

The other Mike pointed at Jay, who was starting to shiver so much that he seemed unable to speak, the cold that closed in on him when he wasn’t touching Mike compounding the disorientation of having his head smacked against the rocks and leaving him slumped in a half-conscious surrender.

“Fucking Jay would have kept me from losing my hair?” Mike said, unable to resist being a smart ass.

The other Mike laughed.

“Fucking him?” he said. “You think that’s all you missed out on? No, you disgusting slob. You were supposed to be his soul mate. You were supposed to take care of him. And you didn’t. And now you’re here. Lucky him, ‘cause I’m everything you’re not.” 

“He’s cold, though,” Mike said, pointing. “He’ll freeze, he’s cursed--”

“Yeah, by you!”

“Please, just let me--”

Mike dashed toward Jay without thinking, and when the other Mike crashed into him like a linebacker and threw him back onto his ass, he felt like he’d known that would happen. He still couldn’t help trying to get to Jay, and wouldn’t be able to stop himself from taking more abuse when he tried again. He winced up at the other Mike from the floor of the canyon, his head throbbing as if his brain had shaken loose inside his skull. He’d bitten his tongue when he landed, and tasted blood when he swallowed. 

“Let you?” the other Mike said. “Why would I do that? Why should I let you ever get near him again? You banished me, your better self, to fucking Hell. And only one of us is leaving here with him. Who do you think it’s gonna be? Why even try to fight, when you know you’re gonna lose?”

Mike struggled to his feet, keeping his eyes on Jay as much as possible. The other Mike kept moving into his field of vision, clearly enjoying the chance to taunt him by keeping him from even getting a good look at Jay, who was lolling miserably in the grip of those black tentacles, shivering hard. 

“You’re the one hurting him,” Mike said, snarling. “Make those things let him go, or go get him warm yourself, if you think you can take such better care of him.”

The other Mike answered by clocking Mike in the face, so hard that he finally understood what it meant to see stars after getting hit. As soon as they dissipated the pain throbbed in and spread across his skull. He staggered a few steps before falling onto his knees, and doubled over completely when he got kicked in the stomach by the other Mike. 

“Don’t,” Jay said, his chattering teeth barely allowing the word out. “Mike--”

“It’s for your own good, babe,” the other Mike said. “This one failed you, we gotta get rid of him before we can move on. C’mon, you must feel it. This is all for you. He fed you to demons and I came here to save you! He’s just an obstacle. A used-up body without a soul.” 

Mike managed to get to his feet, but his sorry charge at the other Mike was dead in the water, his disorientation clouding his mind and the pain in his gut so sharp that he suspected internal bleeding. He crashed pitifully into his other self and was tossed back easily, the other one laughing when he fell onto his ass again. 

“Pathetic.” 

Mike stared at his double’s shoes, watching him walk closer. He tried to scramble backward and got kicked in the jaw for his trouble. 

“You should thank me,” the other Mike said, standing over Mike when he tipped over again, now drooling blood. “I’m putting you out of your misery. You knew you’d never get a happy ending. Not after everything you’ve done. Why not admit it? Just stay down. I’m gonna get a rock and finish the job. It’ll be a mercy killing.” 

Mike felt his eye swelling up from where he’d taken the first blow to the face. He huffed his breath and clutched his stomach, which felt irreversibly fucked up, but wasn’t that true of all of him? Was this hateful thing that looked like him even wrong? 

He watched Jay with one eye open while the other closed up. Jay was sagging in his bonds even while shaking violently with cold, his eyes pinched shut in agony. He was turning blue. 

“Please,” Mike said when the other Mike returned, now holding a sizeable rock in his hands. Mike pointed at Jay, frantic with the need to help him but unable to move. “Okay, yeah, just-- Help him, he-- You’re right, but-- Help him, he needs you--”

“Me?” the other Mike said. He lifted the rock over his head. “You sure about that?”

Mike thought about the Arena episode of Trek and stared up at his double, his still-functional eye blurring over with tears. He realized what he had to do, and what he was looking at. 

This monstrous asshole was him, too. His soul.

“I’m sure,” Mike said. He spat blood and winced, trying to prop himself up on his elbow. “Ah, I-- I fucked up, it’s over. You win. You have what he needs. I don’t.”

The other Mike faltered and frowned. He looked confused, but was still holding the rock like he was ready to bring it down to crush the head of his soulless wreck of a body. 

“I’m a lost cause,” Mike said, staring up at the rest of himself. “Just kill me, man. Jay belongs to you.” 

The other Mike’s arms had started to shake from the weight of that rock, despite all his impressive muscles. 

“I’m serious,” Mike said. He was in a lot of pain and knew more was coming. But maybe not here, not yet. This was a place that Jay’s guardian angel had lead them. “Just go, please, go help him. I’ll die happy if you help him. I’ll leave you both alone.” 

“You don’t mean that,” the other Mike said. Now his legs were shaking, too.

“I think you know I do.”

The other Mike grimaced with new determination, his fingers tightening around the rock. There was no sun in the sky behind him, and no moon, just a dim, sourceless light that came from behind a thick gray haze and only made this place seem more hopeless and grim. Mike stared up at his enraged, arrogant, terrified soul, which had never hated his body or his choices more. Mike could feel it now, too, like a heart beating outside of his body, the pulse of it moving the air around him.

He wanted to glance at Jay, to check on him, but didn’t dare it. He held the eyes of the other Mike as they filled up with angry tears, and didn’t flinch when the Mike standing over him shouted in rage and threw the rock: not at the cowering sack of crap below him but across the arena, where it broke into several pieces against a boulder. 

“You,” the other Mike said, glowering he dropped onto his knees. “I was free from you.” 

“I know,” Mike said, feeling real sympathy. “But we can’t save him without bringing this fucking mess I made along with us.”

The other Mike sniffled, and Mike could see the shape of him flicker. Mike took a long last look at what he could have been, or thought he should have been, anyway, and was struck by how like-himself he looked, even in that ideal body, now that tears were streaking down his cheeks and wetting his perfect stubble.

“You are still half savage,” the other Mike said, his voice already choking away. “But there is hope.”

Mike smiled weakly at the Star Trek quote, all his physical pain forgotten for a moment. It came back in a stabbing throb when the Mike kneeling over him dissipated into a swirl of oily black ribbons framed by sparkling light, transforming from a dream of what could have been and into a tiny crystal glass filled with dark liquid.

A shot glass, Mike thought, staring at it. Of course.

He turned to look at Jay and shouted in horror when he saw Jay was motionless, his head tipped forward lifelessly and hands hanging limp and purplish at his sides. The tentacles were still wrapped around him possessively, even with the phantom Mike dissolved down to different representation of his soul.

Mike grabbed the glass and threw it back in one shot, swallowed all the dark liquid down.

For a full ten seconds that might as well have been an eternity, considering the timelessness of their location and the intensity of the pain, Mike was sure that he had done the wrong thing and this stuff he’d just swallowed would kill him. He could feel himself contorting but couldn’t even make sense of his own body. The placement of his bones seemed to make no sense, except that they all hurt as if they’d been snapped in half; he wasn’t sure if he heard them cracking or if the idea that he should be hearing this was just the first thing his flayed mind could make sense of as he dropped hard onto the rocks again, onto his back. 

The first few panting breaths were painless but also not a relief. He blinked up at the sky and lifted his hands, expecting to find mangled, bloody fingers, but the pain was receding quickly and his hands were fine. His swelled-shut eye was healed, functional again. His stomach no longer hurt, and there was no soreness in his jaw when he touched it tentatively. He rolled onto his side without taking further inventory and bolted toward Jay.

He couldn’t remember ever running so fast. For the first few bounds he thought he’d ended up in that idealized body that his soul had occupied, but there was his beer gut, bouncing as he ran. It didn’t slow him down. He reached Jay in what felt like just a few strides and ripped the tentacles away, unperturbed by their hissing and twisting. Mike crushed them in his palms and they turned to dust, scattering in the wind that cut through the arena. 

Jay fell into Mike’s arms, and the temperature of his body made Mike whimper with horror. He wasn’t resigned to accepting the worst, because Jay’s limbs hadn’t gone completely stiff, and when Mike pressed his fingers to Jay’s throat he felt a faint, thready pulse. What happened if your body perished in Hell, still separated from your soul? Nothing fucking good, surely. Mike held Jay tight, curling as much of himself around Jay as he could, and muffled a single, desperate sob into Jay’s hair. 

“Oh, fuck,” Mike said, recognizing that his voice sounded just as broken and small as his soul’s had before it transformed into a thing he could reclaim by swallowing it down. It was back, lodged with a deliberate ache inside him. He would never not feel it lurking there, now that he’d known what it was like to live without it, and having it back hurt like fucking hell. He rocked Jay in his arms and kissed Jay’s cold cheeks, his palm still pressed to the place where he could feel Jay’s pulse persisting, barely.

Jay’s breath was warm, if reedy and shallow. Mike leaned in close to feel it, soaking Jay’s cheeks up with his hot tears. 

“Remember when we were in your room together that first time?” Mike asked, murmuring this against Jay’s ear and hoping that his soul would somehow hear it, or feel it, even through all the layers of shit they still had to fight through to get it back. “I mean your room at your mom’s house, that day when we watched _Quadead_ together. I was on the floor and you were on the bed. I felt-- I already felt, like. You were too far away. I don’t even know if it was conscious. But I was having the best fucking time and laughing so hard, and even through all that there was this thing in me that was frustrated, too, because I wanted to be closer to you. It’s all I ever fucking want, every day, since then.”

Mike hiccuped a sob and Jay moaned softly, his shoulders twitching within Mike’s tight grip. Jay blinked his eyes open when Mike lifted his head, and his eyelids fluttered when one of Mike’s fat teardrops hit the corner of his nose.

“Mike,” Jay said. He smiled and clutched at Mike’s elbow, his other arm curled against Mike’s chest. 

Mike cried harder, because this was still the Jay who loved him unconditionally and forgave him everything. He could see it in Jay’s eyes. If they managed to get Jay’s soul back, the look of betrayed anger that he would give Mike would be the sweetest relief before it crushed Mike forever, because it would mean Jay was whole again, and that he’d have a chance to escape from this place. Also from Mike.

“Oh,” Jay said, lifting his hand to Mike’s wet cheek. “You’re you. All of you. Ah, Mike. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Mike said, kissing Jay’s face again. “But it will be. I fucking swear.” 

They stayed locked together while Mike calmed his stupid crying and Jay got progressively warmer and less weak, his smile persisting in a way that Mike wanted to resent, because it represented only half of Jay and how Mike wanted Jay to look at him again: with admiration and sweetness and love. The rest of it wasn’t there, without Jay’s soul radiating all of that along with judgment, suspicion, cynicism and fear. Without those sharper things, the soft ones just didn’t mean as much. Mike kissed Jay on the lips anyway, couldn’t help it.

“How’s it feel?” Jay asked, petting Mike’s cheek. “Having your soul back?”

“Horrible,” Mike said, though that word didn’t begin to give this relentless dragging wretchedness justice. “Like the worst hangover I’ve ever had, times a billion.”

“Oh.” Jay smiled like he couldn’t wait to feel the same. “That’s probably a good sign.”

“Probably.” Mike kissed him again and whimpered against his lips. “Fuck,” he said, pulling back. “I’ve got to get it together. I can’t get my eyes to stop-- Doing this.”

“It’s your soul, probably.” Jay reached up to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “We can rest for a minute, I think.”

“No, please. As soon as you can walk, I want to keep moving. Now that I know-- I can’t leave you alone in here for another fucking second. The other half of you. This is the worst I’ve ever felt, but you’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. You just need to be saved.”

Jay frowned a little at that. He sat up in Mike’s arms and moaned, rolled his shoulders. Mike rubbed Jay’s back and touched his warm cheeks, heartened by the renewed heat of him. 

“But where do we go?” Jay asked when Mike helped him stand. “Which direction?”

“This way,” Mike said, turning in the direction that was calling to him, Jay’s hand held in his.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Mike squeezed Jay’s hand and looked back at him. “I know what Rich meant now, that I shouldn’t have tried to find your soul before I had mine back. I wouldn’t have known the way, and demons would have tricked me, lead me in the wrong direction because I wasn’t myself. Now I fucking know. He’s, you’re-- This way, let’s go.”

**


	7. Chapter 7

The farther they walked through rocky, sand-blasted terrain, past jagged cliffs that loomed silently under the featureless grey sky, the more certain Mike was that they would never reach the part of Hell that he had pictured as a burning, scream-filled horrorscape. Hell was nothingness. It was not knowing when you would arrive, if ever, or if you should be afraid that you would starve before you got there. Mike’s mouth was dry, and he could feel Jay’s uncertainty and frustration. Worst of all was Jay’s unwillingness to say anything discouraging, and Mike’s soul-dragging certainty that he didn’t deserve the concession. The seemingly endless landscape they passed through was empty and watchful at the same time. Mike felt like someone just out of sight was laughing at him as he walked without speaking, Jay’s hand clenched tightly in his. 

When they had been walking for an interminable time, palms sweaty and slipping against each other, Mike knew he should be relieved to hear the faint traces of music on the wind. It was something, a development, and he wasn’t sure how long they had waited to find one or how much longer he could hold out without losing his mind. Still, he froze and felt nothing but dread. Something in the faint notes that came to them from the distance sounded like the bell of failure, already tolling. 

“There’s something bad out there,” Jay said, stock still beside Mike and clutching his hand with renewed, painful urgency.

“Yep,” Mike said, staring in the same direction. The longer he looked, the more he was sure he could see a vague red glow from the same direction. “But that’s-- That’s where they have you.”

“I know,” Jay said, as if Mike was dumb for not realizing he would feel it, too. He’d gotten very pale. “Mike, it’s-- He’s-- I’m--”

“I’ll fix it,” Mike said. He lifted Jay’s hand and kissed his tensed knuckles without looking over at him. “Don’t-- Don’t worry. I’ll get you, I’ll-- And I’ll fix it.”

Mike had zero belief in this promise and knew Jay could feel it. Having his soul back was like being kicked in the back nonstop with everything he wanted desperately to deny. 

“What’s that music,” Jay asked, with a flattened heaviness, as if a part of him that he didn’t entirely have access to knew that rhythm too well.

“Synthwave?” Mike said, not even sure if he was joking. There was a ground-thumping menace to it, like an approaching army slamming the ends of their spears down in perfect, horrifying unison. 

Jay hesitated when Mike walked forward. He was scared. Mike could feel it more than he’d ever felt anything. It was trembling, animal fear, like a caught stray backed into the corner of a cage. 

Mike couldn’t blame him. He felt it over every inch of his skin: he should not bring Jay there. Jay would be hurt if he went there, badly. But he also already was being hurt, worse than his physical body could know, so Mike tugged on his hand and gave him a heartbroken look that came nowhere close to conveying how much it was killing him to do this, feel this, and to know it was his fault.

“It’ll be okay,” Mike said. Every empty promise cut his newly restored soul into shreds now, but he deserved worse, and Jay needed him to face this down without flinching.

They walked closer, moving as stealthily as they could, ducking behind rocky outcroppings as they crept toward what sounded like a party in the distance. Mike was pretty sure their attempt to sneak in was pointless; he felt as if they’d been sighted by something overhead that was licking its chops and awaiting their arrival. 

“What will we do?” Jay asked, his panic mounting as they got close enough to really hear the music, which was like a full orchestra doing synthwave, their instruments made out of bones. “I mean, how will we fight?” Jay asked, turning to Mike, eyes wide. “Mike--”

“I don’t know,” Mike admitted. He kissed Jay on the forehead, maybe for the last time. “But I can’t not go in there, and I can’t leave you behind. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

Jay nodded, for the first time not saying that Mike didn’t need to be sorry or was forgiven. Maybe the proximity of his tormented soul was making him remember that he should hate Mike for this.

They were still holding hands when they stood in sight of the gathering before them. The centerpiece was a tent stretched over a segment of barren desert. Mike had expected the tent to be made of human skin or something worse, considering the feeling that surrounded the place and emanated from the creatures within it, but it was pristine white, and the scene inside was eerily sterile, like an over-stylized movie scene that nevertheless represented complete depravity. The music came from nowhere in particular, or maybe from the creatures themselves. Some of them looked human, while others were just light-sucking shapes like black holes, all of them pulsing in a sort of joyless dance around the centerpiece of the party that hung from the ceiling of the tent. It looked like some kind of piñata, shaped like a black cat. The way it swayed helplessly over the things that moved around it made Mike’s stomach pitch.

“Is that your--?” he asked, his eyes burning. He looked at Jay, who was staring at the piñata-thing without blinking, his lips parted. 

“No,” Jay said, without looking at him. “It’s inside there, though. Inside that thing. They’re going to break it open. See, they’re holding-- See?”

Mike dragged his eyes back to the party under the tent. He had missed it at first, because the weapons the demons were holding resembled limbs in many cases, but Jay was right. They were all holding some kind of blunt weapon designed to bash something open. 

“They were waiting,” Jay said, and he pushed out a single dry, defeated laugh. “For my body to show up. Because, because-- Every time they hit that thing, I’ll feel it. Everything that happens to it will happen to me.”

“No,” Mike said, though he understood at once that Jay was right. “Or-- Maybe, but we’re gonna stop this. I’ll--”

He waited to come up with some brilliant idea. They were crouching behind the last available rock that half-concealed them, probably for no reason. If that piñata held Jay’s soul, and those monsters were preparing to bash it to pieces, they would more than welcome his physical body to the party, so they could watch him suffer.

“I don’t fucking get it,” Mike said, his voice pinched with rage. “What the fuck do we have that they want so bad that they went to all this trouble? How are we so rare or special or whatever the fuck? I’m a selfish bastard who wants to possess you. I was always too scared of you to tell you so. Or of losing you. And you, you were afraid to trust me. Who can fucking blame you? That night-- The night that Plinkett came to the shop and fucked it all up, on Valentine’s Day-- What was going to happen? We were gonna kiss, maybe get together for real, so the fuck what? What business does Hell have caring about it?”

Jay had no answer. He was holding Mike’s hand loosely and staring at the piñata like maybe he was going to make a break for it. Mike couldn’t let him run in there and get ripped apart, but he couldn’t wait much longer to see what these things were going to do if he didn’t take any action. He had to think of something. 

Feeling like an idiot, he tried to imagine what Picard would do. The situation seemed so hopeless, and he was missing some puzzle pieces that would tell him how to solve this. Appealing sympathetically to his attacker had been the right move back in the arena, and defying the threat of torture just for a kiss had broken them out of Nerd Crew loop, but nothing so soft-hearted would work against the creatures under this tent. Just being near to them was like watching a thousand graphically detailed news reports about the worst atrocities committed in history all at the same time. Mike felt the weight of defeat in the air, felt himself breathing it in. Being human barely seemed worth it at all, in their presence. 

“Why was my soul yours to give away in the first place?” Jay asked, wilting. “How’s that fair?”

“It’s not-- Jay. Jay! That’s it.”

“What-- huh?”

Mike stood, pulling Jay up alongside him by the hand. His heart was pounding. These were demons, and he was worse than whatever they were, because of what he’d done. He had to use it, to throw it in their faces. It was the only weapon he had left: owning what he’d done.

“Hey!” he bellowed, walking closer in an angry stride. He dragged Jay along with him, ignoring it when Jay stumbled and struggled to keep up, wanting to flee but still holding Mike’s hand. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Mike shouted when the demons paused in their dance routine and turned toward him, slowly and with what looked like delight. 

None of them spoke. The empty-shape entities moved to the edges of the tent, as if to construct themselves into an impassable barrier. The human-looking ones smiled with pointed teeth, clubs and nait bats resting on their shoulders. The little black cat piñata swayed overhead, its wide paper mache eyes looking frightened. 

“What’s in there is mine,” Mike said, pointing at the piñata. “I get the first swing.” 

He heard the gut-punched noise Jay made and knew he’d never forget it. Jay’s fingers twitched and Mike felt him wanting to pull away. Then Jay began to understand, maybe, and let his shoulders slump, his hand limp but unresisting in Mike’s grip. 

Mike stared unfaltering at the demons who were watching him, their heads tilted curiously. This was good, he told himself, even while everything in his soul raged against what he’d said. It wouldn’t work unless Jay believed it, too.

“I’m the one who ripped his soul out,” Mike said, walking closer and yanking Jay along with him. “And I came here for what’s mine.”

For a moment, no one moved. Then a demon who resembled a too-tall man with deep hollows around his eyes stepped forward and handed Mike the weapon he’d been holding. It was a heavy club that looked as if it was made of petrified wood. The demon smiled at Mike with pointed, grey teeth and a glint in his eye. He was amused and unthreatened. All of them were: a titter like rats chewing through wood moved through the crowd. They didn’t think Mike had it in him. 

Jay said nothing. He let go of Mike’s hand and stared at the ground. 

Mike didn’t look back at him as he stepped forward with the bat resting on his shoulder, his eyes locked on the cat-shaped contraption that contained Jay’s soul. Mike could feel him in there, everything in Jay that was hardened and bitter, balled up in Mike’s fist and tossed away as if it wasn’t what Mike loved about him, too, sometimes most of all. A thin, translucent string hung from the back of the cat piñata, the other end attached to the ceiling of the tent. There was no mechanism that Mike could see that kept it hanging there. The string was like a beam of very fine light, a single strand of spiderweb that glinted against the reddish light that glowed hatefully from everything else.

Mike came to stand directly under the cat piñata. It’s four paper mache limbs were all the same size, and its tail was pointed upward, like a cat who wasn’t afraid. He stared up into the thing’s unseeing face, and felt the little pebble of rage that was trembling within it. He hadn’t been this close to the real Jay since they yelled at each other in the shop, when Mike picked a fight out of jealousy and desperate self-loathing. Jay had hated him so much in that moment, he’d felt it, but he hadn’t known why yet. Jay had waited so long and Mike had done nothing, and when it was too late Mike still wanted to ruin what Jay had settled for in lieu of him.

 _I’m sorry_ , Mike thought, staring up at the cat’s stunned paper face. _It’ll hurt, it’ll always hurt, being apart. But if you come back one more time I fucking swear I’ll let you go, I’ll finally let you go._

“What are you waiting for?” some demon hissed from the sidelines. “You’ll have to strike it hard to get what you want out of it.” 

“I know,” Mike said, and he dropped the bat to the floor. The string overhead evaporated with a soundless flick of unseen energy and the piñata dropped into Mike’s waiting arms.

The demons rioted in a cacophony of gnarled, hissing protests and closed in on him as he bolted for the other half of Jay, who was watching this from the edge of the tent. Jay’s body was like a divot in the evil energy around them, his presence providing a means of exit. Mike crashed into him hard, knocking them both to the ground, the piñata hugged between them. It didn’t break, and Mike knew the hardest part was still to come, but when he sat up over Jay protectively and whirled around, anticipating an attack, all the demons had vanished.

The tent was gone, too, and the music, the reddish light. They were back in a barren wasteland, surrounded only by an indifferent rocky landscape. 

Jay panted up at Mike, looking lost and still terrified. He sat up and grabbed Mike’s forearms, scanning their surroundings. The piñata was resting on his chest, his soul still trapped inside it.

“What happened?” Jay asked. “They’re gone?”

“I think so,” Mike said. “At least for now. Are you-- Ready? It’s in here.” He laid a gentle hand on the side of the piñata, hating what he would have to do. “We have to get it back into you. Then we can try to find a way out.” 

He had a bad feeling that the entity that had thrust him into this misadventure by sidling up to him at that bar would be waiting on the path out of Hell, and he had no idea how he’d get past her, but if Jay had his soul back, maybe Mike could distract Satan long enough to give him a way out. 

“How--” Jay said, handling the piñata carefully as Mike sat back, moving off of him. “I-- It’s--”

Jay gave the piñata a little shake. They both heard a single object inside, knocking against the paper mache walls. It sounded small, lightweight. 

“I’m sorry,” Mike said, swallowing. “I think. It’s gonna hurt, but. After I swallowed mine down, all my physical damage was healed. You, we-- It’s got to work the same way, with yours, but. We have to tear this thing open to get it.”

Jay looked confused, but only for a second. His eyes darkened, and he looked down at the piñata. He felt the paper mache front legs, then the back ones. 

“These aren’t hollow,” he said, squeezing each of the pianta’s limbs once more. “You’ll have to-- Rip a hole in my back, or my chest. Otherwise you’d just be tearing off parts of me for no reason. It’s trapped in the middle part.”

“Jay--”

“I can’t do it myself,” Jay said, shoving the piñata into Mike’s hands. “It’ll hurt too much, I won’t be able to-- You have to do it for me. Please.”

Mike held the piñata in his hands and stared down at it. His heart pounded in a painful way that reminded him he was still alive, down here, after all this. He had some kind of life to live above ground, if he could manage to get out with Jay. He had a feeling that life would be a worthy punishment.

“Please,” Jay said again. He placed a hand over Mike’s, gentle. He wasn’t angry when Mike looked up to meet his eyes. The anger was all inside, trapped. Mike would have to tear this un-angry Jay open, literally, to put what had already been ripped out of him back inside. 

“I can’t,” Mike said, though he knew he had to, and could.

“It will be quick,” Jay said, closing his hand around Mike’s. “Like you said. I’ll swallow down whatever’s in there, and it will heal me right up, same as you. Please, Mike. Don’t make me sit here thinking about it. I’m just-- Being only a body makes it scarier, I think. It’s everything I am, until you fix it, like you said you would.”

Mike whimpered, nodding. He couldn’t even cry. His hands were shaking on the piñata. 

“And listen,” Jay said. He touched Mike’s face, made Mike meet his eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’ll always love you. I don’t think one body can love another this much without the soul being involved. And I think the reason they came after us and hurt us like this is that we’re special. Maybe in a fucked up way. Demons would appreciate that. Maybe they’re just watching this play out for fun, like they watched the Nerd Crew and laughed their asses off at how miserable we were, I guess. It doesn’t fucking matter, it doesn’t make why they picked us less real. I always wanted you closer, too. That first day we met and every day after. I don’t even just mean for sex or whatever. I wanted you to reach in and take my fucking soul already, and that’s why you could, because I let you have it. I don’t know if I regret it. Maybe I do. Maybe I will, when I’m me again. But jesus it felt good to have you even like this, for as long as I could.” 

Mike wanted to ask how that could be true, but Jay deserved better than wibbling and equivocating and being held in this horrible position for a moment longer. Mike nodded, leaned forward to kiss Jay as best he could with his lips shaking terribly, and opened his hand on the underside of the piñata. 

“Close your eyes,” Mike said, suddenly not sure he could do this at all. He imagined overhead lights coming on with a cruel spotlight glare, all the demons in Hell laughing at him when he failed. “I’ll make it quick,” he promised, his voice barely working. 

Jay closed his eyes. He was pale with fright, sweating and shaking. 

Mike felt like he should say something more, but there were no words for what he was about to do. Sorry was pathetic, and Jay was waiting. He closed his eyes, too, and clenched his fingers, pushing into the soft paper.

Then he was tearing it open and Jay was screaming. Jay’s shirt didn’t tear open along with the rest of him, but so much blood soaked through it that Mike could feel it gushing down and soaking the knees of his jeans before he could force his eyes open. 

Jay was in shock, no longer screaming but making a steady croaking noise, curled in on himself. Mike shook the piñata once and a single piece of candy in an orange wrapper fell into his palm. There was a black Jack-o-lantern face printed on it, smiling at him.

Mike opened it as fast as he could with his barely functional, blood-wet hands. The candy inside was soft between his fingers, caramel-colored. He squeezed Jay’s face, trying to force his mouth open.

“You have to swallow it,” Mike said, barely recognizing his own voice and willing himself not to look down at all the blood that was still soaking out from the wound he’d ripped into Jay’s chest when he tore the piñata open. “Jay, please, Jay, I know, god, fuck, look at me, please--”

Jay was in no condition to comprehend what Mike was saying, let alone do what Mike was asking him to. Mike didn’t know how to fix this, if it even could be fixed. He touched the unwrapped piece of candy to Jay’s lips, afraid to push it in. What if Jay choked on it? The demons would be uproarious, delighted, and maybe that was their planned finale to this drama all along. 

“Please,” Mike said, lowering his forehead to Jay’s when Jay keened in mindless pain, his whole body wracked with tremors. “Please, please, just swallow this, Jay, please-- If, Jay. Jay, goddammit. If you love me, fucking do what I say!” 

This worked, somehow. Jay closed his teeth around the candy and choked it down in one swallow. Mike helped him sit up, though doing so made more blood soak down onto Jay’s lap, his shirt completely saturated with it. Jay’s shoulders jumped once, twice, while he fought to get the candy all the way down. Mike could only stare in petrified terror, afraid Jay would puke it up, or that he’d been wrong about all of this and had mangled Jay for no reason.

Jay made a sound like a death rattle and then jerked in Mike’s grip, so hard that his feet kicked up into the air. Mike tried to hold him steady, not sure what was coming out of his own mouth: some babbling, insane sounds of grief, half-words and full body sobs. When Jay jerked again he also grit his teeth, his hands going to his ripped-open belly. The wound was concealed beneath his shirt, and Mike braced himself to see it when Jay frantically pushed the blood-soaked fabric out of the way. 

The gash was there, grisly but also closing up fast, torn open skin knitting smoothly back together. Jay moaned like this process hurt, too, and Mike remembered how painful it had been to reunite with his soul. He pet Jay’s face and whispered encouragement, telling him this was good, he’d done it, don’t give up, almost done. 

When the wound on Jay’s chest had healed completely, they both looked down and ran their hands over the newly smooth skin there, panting for breath. Jay’s breathing was far more ragged than Mike’s, and his eyes were blown open wide. The last tremors of soul-settling pain moved through him in a long shiver, and he exhaled a choppy breath before lifting his gaze and staring up at Mike. 

Mike laughed with lunatic relief and touched Jay’s cheek, rubbing his thumb at the wet corner of Jay’s eye. It was him, all of him, his eyes glittering with confused agony as he huffed his breath and tried to get his bearings, still shaking hard while Mike held him. 

“Jay,” Mike said, stroking his face. “Holy shit, Jay, Jay, you, ah--”

Jay blinked rapidly and curled toward Mike’s chest. He closed his eyes there while Mike pet and kissed him, both of them still trying to get their breathing under control. When Jay looked up at Mike again his eyes softened, and Mike felt seen in the way that he only ever had been by Jay, only now Jay saw everything, too much. Jay’s nose twitched, and the dizzy softness in his eyes was replaced with fury. Mike had to bite his lip to hold insane laughter in, still relieved. There it was, what Mike had been waiting for. The real fucking thing. 

“Fuck,” Jay said, croaking this out in a weak, angry voice that made Mike struggle not to start kissing his face all over again. When Jay looked down at his chest again, Mike did, too. Jay couldn’t stop touching the spot that had just been ripped open, now completely healed. There was still blood everywhere, but Jay’s cheeks were flushed and bright, and he didn’t seem in danger of passing out from blood loss. 

“Are you okay?” Mike asked. 

Jay stared up at him, frozen for a moment. His eyebrows lifted slowly, in disbelief. 

“Is that a serious fucking question?” he asked.

Mike laughed and tried to hug him. Jay shoved him away, and it didn’t even hurt yet. Mike’s euphoria could not be stopped, as long as he had all of Jay sitting in the protective shadow of his body, restored and furious and okay, for one definition of okay. 

“Can you stand?” Mike asked, tentatively reaching for him again. 

“I don’t know. Fuck.” Jay rubbed his hands over his face, smearing blood across his cheeks. 

“Do you remember--” Mike started to ask, and Jay cut him off before he could say more.

“Yes.”

“Oh. Okay.” Mike reached for him. Jay leaned away, and the euphoria started to recede, the hurt creeping in. “So, you. You were-- Up there, with me, only--”

“I was in both places.” 

Jay got onto his knees and carefully braced both hands against the ground before trying to stand. He didn’t seem physically weak or like he was still in pain, just like he wasn’t used to being in his body anymore. 

“What was that like?” Mike asked, standing along with him, hands outstretched just in case.

“It hurt,” Jay said, without looking at him. “A lot.” 

“Jay--”

“Let’s go,” Jay said, stumbling away from Mike. He still wouldn’t meet Mike’s eyes. Maybe he would manage to avoid doing so for the rest of his life. “I just want to go home,” Jay said, and he seemed to be speaking to anyone but Mike, asking the void for real help. 

“Okay, yeah.” Mike was trying not to feel crushed. He didn’t even deserve something as mundane as disappointment, and they still had to find their way out. “Um, just.” He’d been so sure where to go next when Jay’s soul was calling to him, but now he felt nothing but pathetic disorientation. He turned in circles while Jay walked away from him in short, tentative steps, testing the weight of his body against Hell’s gravity. “Do you know the way?” Mike asked. 

Jay stopped walking. He stood there, his back to Mike, shoulders sinking. Mike wanted to grab him and hug him and grovel at his feet, but as soon as he took a stop toward Jay he froze in place, knowing he shouldn’t dare another. Jay was radiating injured rage, not wanting Mike any closer. 

Which hurt real bad, for both of them, because something in Jay’s body was also desperate for comfort, in a way that reached Mike like a sad song he could just faintly hear as it moved further and further from him.

“No, I don’t know the way,” Jay said, voice very tight. 

“Oh. Okay, well, that’s all right, we’ll just--” 

“Please don’t talk to me unless you’re telling me your idea about how to get out of here.” 

“Okay. Okay, sorry.”

Mike swallowed and swayed on his feet. This was what Hell really had waiting for him at the pit of all the other horrors, and he couldn’t even hate it. He would gladly spend the rest of his life being loathed and blamed by Jay if he could also be near to him like this, and see that he was okay. He knew it wouldn’t be like that, though, if they made their way out at all. Jay would be gone from his side in a flash up there in the real world, for good.

Jay wandered around in a miserable daze and Mike followed him, sheepish and worshipful, scared. Every five seconds or so, Mike had to batter down the impulse to tell Jay how sorry he was, how he knew Jay hated him and of course he deserved it. Jay didn’t want to hear any of that, so Mike held it in. 

They had been walking together for a while in silence when they saw a dust cloud in the distance. Jay froze, then took several steps back in Mike’s direction that made Mike reach for him instinctively. He put his hands on Jay’s shoulders, and Jay was too frightened by whatever was coming for them now to shrug Mike off for a full three seconds.

“Is that--” Jay said, squinting when he’d moved away from Mike. “It looks like, ah. Some kind of Mad Max car?”

“Perfect,” Mike said, exhausted. He wanted to sink to his knees and kiss Jay’s feet and say, go on without me, I’m only slowing you down. 

“Oh god,” Jay said, and he groaned. “I think that’s Garrett, actually.”

“I don’t even know if that’s good or bad anymore.”

“It’s good,” Jay said, and he cut Mike an angry look, not quite meeting his eyes. “He’s the one who saved us.”

Mike snorted, and felt bad about it, but then Jay did meet his eyes, glaring, and Mike’s heart did a queasy backflip of glee. 

“He also participated in our torture,” Mike said. “He’d report us to Brand Management--”

“That whole thing was just a test to get you to do something you didn’t want to do,” Jay said sharply. Mike wanted to lick the words out of the air, had missed Jay’s authentic disgust and derision so much, his authentic everything. “Garrett had to blend in so he wouldn’t tip the others off before you pulled your head of your ass and got us out of there.” 

“Yeah, he’s a real angel.” 

“He was, until he sacrificed his immortality to help us in here, which I guess yours wasn’t willing to do.”

Jay snapped his gaze away from Mike’s and waved to Garrett as if he was a long lost best friend and a welcome relief from the hell of Mike’s company.

Mike loved Jay so much. He couldn’t help smiling up at him as he sank to a defeated seat on the rocky ground, assuming that he wouldn’t be invited along on Garrett’s rescue mission. If Garrett really wanted to help Jay, he’d leave Mike behind. Jay would be all for it. 

Of course Mike didn’t really believe this. His soul boomeranged his self pity back at him, slicing him up inside with guilt. He’d always been counting on Jay to save them both, in the end, in some fashion. 

“Guys!” Garrett said, looking thrilled to see both of them when he’d brought his massive, flame-spewing truck to a halt and pulled up the goggles he’d been wearing while driving. The vehicle was stripped down and outfitted with bones, had giant tires and an angry mouth full of sharp teeth painted on the front. “Look what I found!” Garrett said, throwing his arms out. “Well, stole. But I can steal now, without getting immolated. Wow, I guess I’m a human, sorta? Weird! Anyway, climb on in. I think I found a way out. Won’t be easy, but it’s worth a try.”

Mike had sort of been expecting a thanks for helping to save Jay, and he felt like an asshole for resenting the fact that he didn’t get one as he climbed on board. He supposed the rest of his life would be spent feeling like an asshole, deservedly.

“Hey, big guy!” Garrett said, throwing his arms around Jay when he climbed on board. “Welcome back to wholeality!”

“Is that-- A word?” Jay asked, scowling. 

“I dunno!” Garrett said. He whirled on Mike. “And you, too,” he said, still beaming. “Souls, am I right? Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.”

“What does that even mean?” Mike asked, mostly back to hating him.

“Who cares,” Jay snapped. “Let’s go, Garrett, please.”

Jay sat up front with Garrett while Mike slumped into the backseat, his anxiety ramping back up as they drove through the naked terrain, no sign of a way out appearing. He supposed Garrett had a plan, and couldn’t deny that his facilitation of the Nerd Crew nightmare had been kind of brilliant, and never would have worked if he hadn’t stood by in support of their torture until the moment when he could finally free them. Maybe if they actually made it out of Hell together Mike would attempt to like the guy. 

Mike couldn’t stop staring at Jay, and he could feel Jay resenting him for it. He could feel other things, too. Jay was wrapping all his energy around being angry to avoid thinking about anything else or crumbling into a broken heap. He needed to be hidden away from everything for a while, if they ever reentered the world above again, and cared for by someone who loved him. Who could do this, or understand why, except Mike? They both knew it wouldn’t happen, but Mike imagined he could feel Jay wishing it was possible, too. 

“We’re close!” Garrett called when the sky overhead had gone from slate grey to a darker sort of indigo that almost sparkled, something in the distance crackling like a lightning storm. 

“How are they letting us get away like this?” Jay asked, shouting over the noise of the truck’s engine. “And why’d they all disappear back there, when Mike-- Caught me?” 

Mike’s heart swelled and then buckled at Jay’s referral to that piñata thing he’d had to rip open as himself. 

“I dunno,” Garrett said. “I think Satan is playing games with you, enjoying herself. Which makes me kinda concerned about, uhh, all that lightning up there. That’s kiiiiinda the direction I was hoping to exit through.” 

“Is anyone gonna explain to me what the fuck Satan finds so fascinating about us?” Mike asked, leaning forward between their seats. 

“I’m afraid you might get the chance to ask her yourself,” Garrett said, slowing the truck down. As he did, Mike heard familiar laughter that wasn’t quite in the distance. It was coming from some unseen person, a woman, but it was also everywhere, echoing off the ground below their tires and the surrounding rocky landscape. 

“Shit,” Jay said. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Garrett said. “But, um. Have faith! We’ll, like. Figure it out?”

“Why’d they give you such a shitty angel, anyway?”

Lucy was the one asking, and she appeared suddenly in front of the truck. She grinned and held her hand out, bringing the truck to a stuttering halt just before it could crash into her, the engine dying in a plume of dark smoke. 

“I mean that’s the better question,” she said, rocking forward onto her toes and then back onto her heels like a kid, still smiling. She was dressed in the same mundane clothes she had been wearing in the bar, and was maintaining that same human appearance, probably to taunt Mike. “But if you really want to know, I just have some fun plans for you two, because I like you so much! And these angels have miserably failed you, obviously. I used to be an angel, too. It’s a job for losers who suck.” 

“Luce,” Garrett said, sighing, and then he tried to say something else, making only a choking noise instead. His eyes bugged out and he grabbed for his throat, then shoved two fingers into his mouth and made a panicked, animal noise of horror.

“Oops, Garrett doesn’t have a tongue anymore!” Lucy cackled at her own joke, clapping. “That’s long overdue, if you ask me. Anyway, Jay. Mike. You guys are great. And you belong here, with me. Or for my entertainment, anyway. What do you say to watching shitty movies together for all eternity? And making fun of them? ‘Cause, surprise! That’s what you’re going to do. You passed all my tests! I knew you’d be the best, best pets ever.” 

“Please,” Jay said, stock still in the front seat and breathing hard. Mike was hovering right at his shoulder, and Jay seemed to have no objection to having him close, suddenly. “Maybe we’ll belong in Hell after we die, sure, but we still-- We’re still alive!”

“I know, that’s what makes you so uniquely genuine! I can still torture you physically if you step out of line. Honestly, dead people are so dull, they forget how to experience pain and their souls just limply endure it. Boring. You guys are different. And I’m totally here for the will-they won’t-they romance drama until the end of time, too. You may have noticed that there are no orgasms in Hell. And _that’s_ hilarious, you know, in your situation.” 

“Just let Jay go,” Mike said. “Please, I’ll be your--” He winced. “Pet. Forever. But he actually has something to live for, he deserves to--”

“Mike.” Lucy batted her eyelashes at him and snickered. “I’m Satan, honey. I don’t give a fuck what people deserve. And you’re no good to me without the object of your desire.” 

Garrett was breathing heavily beside Jay, gaping at Lucy with his tongueless mouth hanging open. Lucy shifted her gaze from Mike and Jay’s expressions of beleaguered defeat and smirked. 

“Coming in here with no powers?” she said, shaking her head at Garrett. “Thinking you could outsmart me? Well, you always overestimated yourself, dumbass.”

“Might say the same about you, _Satan_.”

Everyone turned to see a portal flashing open. Mike recognized the smell that emanated from it, as strong and repulsive as ever: Plinkett’s house.

Rich stepped through the portal and crossed his arms over his fat chest, eyes narrowed as he stared Satan down. The portal remained open behind him.

“You too?” Lucy said. “These two are really worth your immortality?”

“It ain’t worth much if I don’t do what I was designed to with it,” Rich said. 

“Um, yeah it is?” Lucy gestured around expansively. “I made a whole realm where I get to do whatever I want forever.”

“Yeah, and you’re so bored with it that you’re kidnapping our humans for your amusement.” 

“Now you’re starting to annoy me,” Lucy said, the pitch of her voice lowering with every word. She was also starting to glow, an increasingly bright orange-yellow aura forming around her human form. “Mike, Jay, you might want to avert your eyes,” she said, speaking in a deep monotone as her eyes got very bright green, her short fingernails glowing like embers. “‘Cause I’m about to clean house.” 

“My tongue!” Garrett shrieked, jumping up in his seat. “It’s back!” 

“Huh?” Lucy turned on him, her glowing green eyes narrowing. “How?”

“Ex-angel powers, you arrogant fucker,” Rich said. “Turns out if there’s two of us here, both willing to give up immortality to enter a realm made by another ex-angel, we can actually fuck some shit up. To a degree. To this degree, to be precise.”

Rich didn’t move, but something started happening in the sky overhead. Clouds formed, swirling in thin, lazy bands before picking up speed and thickening, circling around a widening hole in the sky that let in a beam of blinding light. Garrett giggled obnoxiously and jumped out of the truck to run over and stand beside Rich, and as he did the maelstrom in the sky got more violent. Lucy glowered up at it, seething, her orange-yellow glow looking increasingly radioactive and splintering the edges of her human disguise. 

“Hey, fucking stop it!” Lucy said, levitating a few feet off the ground to inspect the damage overhead. “You fucking assholes, shitdammit! You know how long that’s gonna take to fix?”

“Yes,” Rich said. “And we can keep going, or you can let our friends here go.”

“Friends?” Lucy sputtered in angry laughter and glared down at Rich and Garrett, floating higher in the sky. “Fine, you pathetic shits. Like I care, this is boring now anyway. Get out!” 

She flung her hands in their direction and Jay and Mike were both ripped out of the truck as if by a hurricane-force wind, flung through the air toward Rich and Garrett. They all crashed together in a lung-clearing blow, and were pushed out through the portal, tumbling back into the stink of Plinkett’s basement. 

“And tell Harry he’s uninvited to the orgy!” Lucy shouted, her booming voice the last thing that exited the portal as it closed up behind them. 

When it was gone, they were sitting on the floor of Plinkett’s basement and staring at a plain brick wall, the curtain that had once covered it ripped down and lying on the floor. 

“Holy cow, it worked!” Garrett said, leaping up. He held his hands up in front of his face and smiled at them. “And look, Rich! We’re human!”

“Great,” Rich muttered, struggling to his feet with a grunt. “You two okay?” he asked, offering Mike a hand. 

“Yes,” Mike said, though he really had no idea how he felt. He stood up and dusted himself off, wanting to get out of Plinkett’s basement and still considering killing Plinkett on his way out. Jay was sitting on the floor in a stunned kind of disbelief, his legs stretched out in front of him. Mike moved to help him up, but Garrett got there first, squatting down to hoist Jay up by his arms. 

“How long have we been gone?” Jay asked, staggering away from Garrett when he was on his feet.

“Just about five hours or so,” Rich said, gesturing to the open door at the top of the basement stairs. Dim sunlight was visible from the first floor. “It’s morning now.” 

“Is she going to come back for us?” Mike asked, gesturing to the spot on the wall where the portal had been. 

“Doubtful,” Rich said. “She’s pretty fickle. But we’ll be here to help you if she does. We don’t have any powers now in the real world, but in the realm of a fellow ex-angel we’ll always be able to do some damage.” 

“That’s right!” Garrett said. “So stick with us and you’ll be fine. Hey, uh--” He turned to see Jay climbing the stairs behind him. “Where you going, pal?”

“I don’t know,” Jay said. “Home.”

Mike thought of what Jay had said to him on the bus, that Mike felt like home to him. But that was only half of Jay, just the physical truth of him. The rest of him was now off limits to Mike forever, he feared. 

He followed Jay up the stairs anyway. 

Plinkett was asleep in his armchair, snoring. He had a black eye and a blood-stained bandage wrapped sloppily around his head, presumably because of his struggle with Rich the night before. Mike stood in front of him and debated killing him, but Jay was walking away, out the front door, so Mike tabled the murder of Plinkett for later and followed Jay outside. Their ex-angels trailed behind them, arguing about some kind of severance pay issue.

It was a cold, bright morning. Mike blinked uncomfortably in the sunlight, feeling like he’d crawled out of Hell after a thousand years there, not five hours. He caught up to Jay and walked alongside him, his heart in this throat. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t just make everything worse, but he had to say something. 

“Are you hungry?” Mike asked, desperate for Jay to look over at him. “‘Cause I could eat. I could buy you breakfast--”

“Can you please just leave me alone?” Jay asked, his voice small. He was staring at the ground, looking exhausted and depressed. His blood-soaked Nerd Crew clothes had disappeared, and he was back in the clothes he’d been wearing when they entered the portal, same as Mike. 

“I will,” Mike said, reaching for him. He touched Jay’s shoulder very gently, expecting to be shoved away. “But, just. Can we, like. I mean, you need--”

“I don’t think you know what I need.”

Jay rolled his shoulder so that Mike would let go of him. Mike stood there devastated, remembering his promise to let Jay go, the thing that had saved them as much as anything else. He was sure that was what broke the string and allowed the piñata to drop into his arms, because he’d meant it, and the string had been part of Jay, too, a thread between his body and soul that heard that promise and trusted Mike to keep it. 

Jay continued on, slow in his steps as he made his way toward the bus stop. Everything in Mike was screaming to run over to him, pick up him and carry him the rest of the way, but he did as Jay had asked him to instead.

“Don’t despair, buddy,” Garrett said, appearing at Mike’s side and patting him on the back. “I’ll watch out for him. He just needs some time to himself. It’s a lot to process!”

Mike turned to Rich, who had come to stand at his other side. Rich met his gaze and shrugged.

“Seems like a good idea to give him some space,” Rich said, muttering, as they both watched Garrett jog ahead to catch up with Jay.

“But,” Mike said, and then nothing more. He knew Rich was right. It just felt so wrong, letting Jay walk away from him. He would never feel right again, without Jay at his side. He’d never felt right without Jay, not really, even before they’d met. 

“I guess I need to find a job,” Rich said, sighing. “And a place to live.”

“Rich, you saved my life,” Mike said, still staring at Jay. “You can move in with me. My place kinda sucks, and you’ll have to sleep on the couch, but I’ve got cable.” 

They hung back until Jay and Garrett were out of sight, then cut through Plinkett’s neighborhood to reach a diner that served greasy breakfast food and bad coffee. Mike’s wallet had survived the trip to Hell, and his debit card still worked. He mostly sat there in a daze, watching Rich eat ravenously. Mike didn’t actually have an appetite. He’d just wanted to feed Jay. He could only sip slowly from a mug of black coffee, his stomach all pinched up. 

“Is Jay gonna be okay?” he asked, his voice wavering.

“Oh, sure,” Rich said. He wiped his lips with a napkin and gulped from his glass of orange juice. 

“I’m fucking serious, Rich. Tell me. What sort of damage did Hell do to him?”

“Eh.” Rich lifted one shoulder and gave Mike a queasy look. “Only he can really tell you that. I don’t have omniscience anymore.” 

“Is Garrett worth a damn? I mean, he kinda sucks, right? Will he take care of Jay, will he do a good enough job?”

“Garrett’s fine,” Rich said, dismissive. “He had a good plan, didn’t he? Once I heard about him resigning his angel-ness for emergency rescue purposes, I was like, well, fuck. Here goes nothing. But it all worked out! Don’t expect everything to go back to normal right away, with you and Jay. It’ll take a while.”

“But it will be normal again?” Mike asked eagerly, leaning across the table.

“I have no idea!” Rich said, and threw up both his hands. “I know as much as you do about whatever comes next, from here on out. Probably less! And on that note, question. How often do you have to, like, bathe? Human-wise? ‘Cause I feel like I stink. Can you smell me?”

Mike moaned and rubbed his hands over his face, shaking his head. 

They went back to Mike’s apartment after breakfast, and Mike allowed Rich to use the shower before him, as a gesture of gratitude. Rich took a long time and used all the hot water, so Mike had to take a quick, cold, miserable shower. 

Good, he thought, teeth chattering. Unless he was giving it to Jay, he should have the opposite of comfort. 

He still crawled under the blankets on his bed and huddled up miserably with his phone while Rich watched TV. Mike’s eyes got wet when he read his last text message exchange with Jay, from just three days ago, before Tom had wandered into the VCR repair shop and inspired Mike to wreck everything.

Jay 12:14am: Do you have my copy of Annihilator?

Mike 12:20am: i don’t even know what that is

Jay 12:21am: The TV movie about killer robots. We just watched it last week! I think I left it over at your place, can you look?

Mike 12:23am: the fuck you need it for so urgently

Jay 12:25am: Never mind I’ll look for it myself tomorrow. 

That had been their last day of normalcy: Jay showed up at Mike’s apartment before their shift and searched around until he found his precious VHS copy of this shitty old TV movie that had put Mike to sleep when Jay tried to make him watch it. He’d probably wanted it so he could show it to Tom. Even before Tom came into the store later that day, a kernel of fear had sprouted in Mike’s chest: what if there was someone out there who could appreciate Jay and his neverending weirdness on the same level Mike did, and what if that was why Jay suddenly wanted his strange and incomprehensible treasures back, because he was finally going to give them to someone who deserved them. 

Mike knew he shouldn’t bother Jay yet, but he sent a text anyway. 

Mike 9:34am: hey are you okay? 

Mike 9:45am: are you coming to work tomorrow?

Mike 9:49am: I love you

Mike 9:50am: sorry

Mike 10:00am: if you want anything or need anything just say it I’ll do anything you want from now on without question, just so you know

Jay 10:13am: 1) relatively speaking sure 2) haven’t decided 3) okay 4) I know 5) great, then leave me alone like I asked you to

Mike couldn’t help himself. Even the coldness of these responses made him laugh with wild relief and a sort of unbearable, overflowing adoration. He pressed the phone to his face and kissed it. Jay was perfect, perfect like this, himself again. All of Mike’s other fears and wounds were far less important.

“Are you losing your mind over there?” Rich asked from the couch, turning the TV volume down.

“Yes,” Mike said, sniffling. “But it’s okay.”

Mike spent the rest of the day in bed, waking from bad dreams about still being trapped in Hell and suffering from the thought of Jay doing the same and having no one to hold him and tell him it would be okay. Surely he wasn’t letting Garrett do that. He was probably curled up in bed alone, same as Mike, under blankets. Unless of course he’d gone to Tom’s place and thrown himself into Tom’s arms with a non-explanation about how Tom had been right about Mike, who’d promptly ruined Jay’s life all over again. 

The following morning marked the first occasion Mike had ever been early to his shift. He was there and waiting for Jay a half hour before their scheduled opening time, wearing his Lightning Fast shirt and seated behind the counter, watching the front door and breathing a little heavily, his right heel bouncing nonstop. One of Jay’s hooded sweatshirts was draped over the back of his chair, also waiting for him. It was cool outside but not frigid, spring melting away toward the first hints of nice weather at last. 

Jay was exactly on time. Mike found this unnerving, but his smile was real when Jay met his gaze, looking nervous. Jay was dressed in a nice sweater and jeans, his hair and beard neatly groomed as usual, and he was carrying his folded Lightning Fast shirt. Maybe he would go into the back room to change into it, Mike thought, his heart pounding and his voice not working. He wasn’t sure what to say, anyway. When Jay stepped forward and laid the Lightning Fast shirt on the counter, they both stared at it like it was a dead body: Mike with horror, Jay with sad resignation. 

“What’s this?” Mike asked. 

“I’m leaving town,” Jay said. “Rich can have my job. I have to-- I don’t know. Try something else, at least for a while. I always wanted to live in L.A., remember? And really try to make movies? Why’d I let that go? Anyway, um. Garrett says he knows people out there. He’s gonna help me get settled.” 

“He knows-- What?” Mike felt himself scowling and forced a kinder expression on his face, his heart slamming. “He’s a celestial being. Or, he was. How the fuck does he know people in L.A.?”

“It’s the City of Angels, Mike.” 

Jay attempted a smile, mostly looking like he might puke. He looked down at the front counter and picked at a piece of chipped wood on the edge. Surely the dent there was the result of some tantrum he’d watched Mike have, once.

“Rich will never fit into this shirt,” Mike said, his voice cracking. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the counter. 

“I’m sure you can order a bigger one from corporate,” Jay said. His voice was fucked up, too.

“Jay--”

“Mike, just--”

“I didn’t want any of this to happen,” Mike said, shaking his head hard when Jay lifted his eyes to meet his gaze again. “Please, please, I hate myself--”

“Don’t do that. I don’t need you to-- Whatever, atone. We both went through Hell. Literally. I just-- I need to go away for a while and think. And try something else. So, yeah. I wanted to tell you in person.” 

“Jay, it’s-- Maybe, okay, yeah, but not right away. Right? Like, don’t you want to, I don’t know, rest, and recover--”

“If I do that, I’ll end up doing it with you, and then nothing will ever change.”

“It will, though! It would, Jay, everything’s different now--”

“Yeah, exactly!” Jay was back to looking angry, eyes pinkish at the corners but also narrowed. “ _I’m_ different! And I don’t want to waste this. I don’t feel afraid anymore, of trying something hard, or of leaving this.”

“This,” Mike said.

“Yeah.” Jay gestured at the repair shop, then at Mike. “Everything comfortable and familiar. What was I even doing here? Waiting you out? And it took fucking divine intervention to get you to-- Whatever. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m just here to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Mike repeated flatly.

Jay looked struck, as if Mike was telling him to just get out. Mike remained in his chair, probably scowling again. It was all he could do to keep from bawling and begging like an idiot. 

“Wish me luck, at least,” Jay said, taking a step back from the counter.

“Break a fucking leg, Jay.” 

Jay sucked in his breath and turned. Mike leapt out of his chair, not even sure what he planned to do. He ran around the counter and grabbed Jay’s arm before he could bolt out the door. 

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” Mike said, starting to blubber a little. “I didn’t mean to-- I’m such a--”

“No, it’s okay,” Jay said, pulling free. “I actually-- Ha.” He swallowed and shrugged, looked down at his shoes. “I love that you’re like this. I feed off it. Which is why I have to go.” 

“What?” 

“I can’t stand here and fucking explain it to you right now, Mike. Please just let me go.”

Mike took a step away from him. It hurt. Everything in him ached, and it wouldn’t stop, he knew. Jay would get farther and farther away, taking so much of Mike with him. Mike would be a scrap of himself in no time. 

“Okay,” Mike said, nodding. It was the right thing to do, and a promise he had always intended to keep, if it was what Jay wanted. He’d just desperately hoped Jay would want to curl up against his chest and live there forever instead. “Good luck. I love you.”

He hadn’t intended to not say so, but hearing the words tumble out without warning surprised him as much as they apparently shocked Jay, who flinched as if Mike had hit him. 

“You said that to me a million years ago,” Jay said, backing toward the door again. “At that bar, on New Year’s Eve. You probably don’t remember--”

“Yeah, I do. I said I’ll love you no matter what. S’true.” 

Jay nodded to himself, looking dazed. His resolve to leave was crumbling, maybe. Suddenly Mike didn’t even want it to. For Jay’s sake. He wanted Jay to have more than this.

“Send me a postcard,” Mike said, turning for the counter. “Or at least tell me your Instagram account name. Or whatever L.A. people use now.”

Mike took his seat behind the counter, hoping that his all-over trembling wasn’t visible from where Jay stood, near the door. He also hoped Jay wouldn’t notice his sweatshirt hanging on the back of his chair, because if he left it behind Mike would take it home and sleep with it pressed against his face, every night, until he couldn’t smell Jay on it anymore, just himself. 

“You know I could feel you stalking around while I was down there,” Jay said, stepping backward as he spoke, until his back touched the handlebar across the shop’s door. “Your soul. Were you split in half, too? I mean, did you feel yourself in both places?” 

“No,” Mike said, ashamed. “I think because it was my choice, my mistake. I was totally severed from that part of me until I found it again.”

“Oh.” Jay nodded to himself and leaned his weight against the door, cracking it open and allowing the street sounds inside. “Yeah, I. Guess that makes sense. But anyway. You were always trying to get to me, when I was trapped alone in that thing. I guess you needed the other half of yourself before you could. But I could feel you out there, how pissed off you were that you couldn’t get any closer, how much you wanted to help me. I think I’ll always feel it now. Wherever I go.” 

Guess we’ll find out, Mike thought. It was too cruel to say, and he was distantly proud of himself for holding it in. He nodded and lifted his hand in a motionless wave.

Jay did the same, then he was gone.

**


	8. Chapter 8

Spring brightened into a sparkling summer. Mike spent most of it feeling sorry for himself and then berating himself for the same, drinking a lot while Rich sampled various human pleasures. To Mike’s great disappointment, after drinking just half of one beer Rich made a face, said ‘eh, it’s not for me’ and thereafter waved off all of Mike’s attempts to transform him into a drinking buddy. 

By August, Rich had a girlfriend. Mike rarely interacted with anyone outside of Rich, who had taken Jay’s vacant seat at the repair shop and was at least a good conversationalist, though limited in his knowledge of cultural nuance and nowhere near comparable to Jay when it came to discussing movies. Mike was comforted by the singular, undemanding presence of Rich, unable to tolerate the idea of spending real time with anyone who didn’t understand what he’d been through. Even the appeal of a drunken one night stand had become so alien that he wasn’t sure why he’d ever bothered, when Jay had always been right there. 

Jay never called, texted rarely. He had never been big on communicating via phone unless the concerns were immediate and practical: where are you, where’s my stuff, when do you want to meet, why are you late, are you still coming? Sometimes Mike would get a contextless picture of an L.A. thing that Jay thought he would find funny. More often, he had to count on Jay’s infrequent Instagram updates to keep up with what he was doing. Jay rarely posted candid or revealing pictures, mostly just put up horror movie iconography and mundane street photos that were out of focus in unsettling ways. Based on his pictures, he seemed to mostly go out at night, like a vampire, but when he did finally post a picture of himself on his birthday, he looked sun-kissed and newly hot, highly polished, in better shape than ever.

He also looked miserable, Mike thought. Like the light in his eyes had gone out, or was at least alarmingly muted. Mike was aware that this was probably wishful thinking. Jay was probably much happier without him, on the sunny west coast. He was still there, after all, working as a P.A. on a low budget horror movie, a job that Garrett had secured for him in some mysterious capacity.

Mike wasn’t sure if it was his loneliness or his soul, but something right at the center of him was always hurting, knifing at him just gently enough to keep him awake at night and cause him to lose weight due to lack of appetite but not enough to send him to the emergency room or off the side of a tall building. He got by. Looking at old pictures of him and Jay helped, though there were far too few of them in his possession. He went to places where he used to go with Jay, always bringing Rich and sometimes also Rich’s girlfriend, regaling them both with stories about the time Jay sang karaoke while extremely drunk or the time he’d gotten all red-faced when Mike’s date asked them if they’d ever had a three-way with anyone. Mike had ten to twelve Jay stories for every locale, and when he ran out of new ones he repeated the ones he’d already told. 

“Why don’t you call him?” Rich’s girlfriend said gently on one such occasion, when it was nearing October and Mike hadn’t even gotten an impersonal picture text from Jay in over a month. The last one of those had been a picture of some extremely sad cheese curds he’d ordered in L.A.

“I can’t,” Mike said. “He’s free of me, and I don’t want to wreck it.” 

“I still don’t understand what you did that was so bad,” she said, because she knew nothing of the whole going to Hell scenario, nor that her boyfriend had once been immortal. 

“It’s a real long story,” Rich said. He had made Mike swear not to mention the angel stuff to her or anyone else, and hadn’t had a lot of success even explaining to Mike how the whole universe outside of the mortal world worked, even though Mike had been outside of it himself. Apparently Rich was ‘more like an alien’ than anything to do with human religion, there was no god ‘per se,’ and time itself was ‘an accident.’ Mike didn’t really want the answers to any of this, anyway. He just needed to keep telling his Jay stories, and Rich was a good listener. 

Rich seemed to enjoy being a human more than anyone Mike had ever met who was actually born as one. He had an unbothered sense of acceptance that Mike admired and attempted to emulate, especially where the loss of Jay was concerned. He couldn’t let go of his dumb fantasies about flying out to L.A. and falling to his knees at Jay’s feet in some way sufficient to impress him, but he wasn’t going to actually do it, because even in his daydreams he couldn’t figure out what to do once he was on his knees.

His memories of being in Hell were faint during the day, surreal and hard to accept as anything that had ever happened to him, but in the middle of the night they hurtled through his subconscious and stuck in him like darts. Rich was spending more and more time at his girlfriend’s place, and Mike was often alone in the apartment after waking up this way, staring at his phone and trying to imagine what he could possibly say to Jay that would even convey a fraction of what he felt for him, how sorry he was, or how much the time they’d had together kept him going on those nights when he woke in Hell-based terror, because he would willfully paper over the memories of that shitshow with memories of Jay. 

He was doing this one night when there was a knock on his door around three AM. 

Mike sat up in bed, startled and half convinced that he’d slipped back into a thin sleep and dreamed the knocking, but then it happened again, angry and insistent. 

He moved through the dark of his apartment as if in a dream, not even hesitating to check the peep hole before pulling open the door, which he’d neglected to lock before getting in bed. Maybe he had a death wish, or at least welcomed some lesser punishment from whatever waited for him outside. 

The hallway was dark, too, the lights out there having burned out years ago and building management never having bothered to replace them. Mike didn’t need them to recognize Jay instantly, by the light of the moon from the window at the end of the hall. Jay looked angry. He was wearing a black leather jacket, though it was unseasonably warm that night. Mike remembered, staring dumbfounded at him, that it was the first of October. 

“Jay,” he said, breathing this out as if seeing a ghost. 

“Let me in,” Jay said. “I need to see something.” 

Mike stepped out of the way, expecting Jay to make a beeline for the mess of DVDs and VHS tapes that were scattered around Mike’s living room TV. Jay seemed to have some kind of agenda, walking inside with purpose, but he didn’t put any lights on or start rifling through Mike’s stuff in search of something that belonged to him. He walked over to stand near Mike’s bed and turned back to him, frowning. Mike just stood by the still-open door, staring. 

“What are you doing?” Jay snapped, shrugging his jacket off. “Get over here.” 

“Coming, yes,” Mike said, dazed as if struck in the head with a sudden hope that was so unexpected and massive it was scary. He shut and locked the door, also turned the deadbolt, concerned about security now that he had something in his place worth protecting. 

Jay sat on the bed, then stood abruptly as Mike approached him. Mike’s heart was hammering. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, but he knew that couldn’t be the case. He never had good dreams anymore, only ones about Hell, and if Jay appeared in them he was always far ahead in the distance, just out of sight. 

Now he was standing right in front of Mike, staring up at him with an annoyed expression, as if Mike was the one who had barged in on him in the middle of the night. Jay was breathing kind of hard, like he’d run up the stairs to the third floor. The leather jacket was on Mike’s bed. Jay was wearing a t-shirt of some dark color that Mike couldn’t quite determine in the current lighting, tight jeans, his usual shoes. He smelled like peppermint and licorice, like he’d been living in an old fashioned candy shop. 

“You look so good,” Mike said when Jay just stood there, his enraged expression mellowing into something more lost and confused, like suddenly he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there. 

“You don’t have to seduce me,” Jay said, frowning again. He pointed to the bed. “Do you still want me? ‘Cause I need to do an experiment.”

“Want-- Jay, what--” 

“I mean for sex. Lie down, I’m-- I think I’m still cursed, you fucker. I want to find out.”

Mike almost whimpered. No one had called him a fucker in months. He sat on the bed and stared up at Jay, ready to do whatever he wanted for the rest of his life. 

“Cursed?” Mike said, reaching for Jay cautiously when he kneeled on the bed and pushed Mike’s shoulders back. 

“I can’t-- Just shut up and take this off.” 

Jay was pulling at Mike’s shirt. Mike took it off, feeling overwhelmed but glad about it, because Jay was here and Mike would happily feel anything as long as Jay was the cause. He watched Jay take his shoes off and fling them sort of angrily away from the bed. 

“Are you okay?” Mike asked when Jay flattened him to the bed, straddling his hips and holding him down by the shoulders. Jay was keeping back, out of kissing range. Mike was getting hard, and wasn’t sure if he should apologize for it. 

“No,” Jay said. “I’m not okay. I can’t stop thinking about this. You cursed me for life, I think. Just let me see if I’m right. Then I can decide what to fucking do about it.”

Jay turned for his jacket and rifled through the pockets, locating a condom and a little bottle of clear liquid that Mike assumed was lube. He set them both on the windowsill that overlooked Mike’s sad box-spring bed and leaned back to pull his shirt off. 

“Jesus,” Mike said, his hands twitching on the mattress. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch, or if Jay just wanted him to lie there like a sex toy. Mike was fine with either, but was also licking his lips and wanting badly to run his hands all over Jay’s chest. “I guess this isn’t a date,” Mike said, balling his hands into fists to keep them still. 

“Huh?” Jay’s hands were on the button of his jeans, unfastening. 

“You-- You’re all fuzzy,” Mike said, loving it. “You didn’t shave your chest. Do you remember, like. Telling me you shaved when you had a date?”

“I remember everything,” Jay said, not looking at him as he knelt up to slide his pants down. “And you’re right. This isn’t a date. It’s an experiment.”

“I like it better unshaved, anyway.”

“Like I care!”

Jay was so determined to be angry about what he was doing, taking, asking for. Mike had a million questions and had to bite his lip to keep them in, afraid to break this spell or piss Jay off enough to send him out the door. He was also afraid he’d start laughing hysterically, just to release some pressure from the joy that was building and building in the hollow place inside him, which had been waiting to be filled with exactly this. 

Stripped down to his underwear, Jay was visibly hard in a way that made Mike ache for him even while he was right there, warm and squirming on Mike’s thighs. Mike took his cue and pulled his sweatpants off. They were both breathing hard once they were down to the last layer between them. Jay had on grey boxer briefs that clung to him and somehow looked expensive. Mike’s were a pair of tartan boxers he’d had for longer than he could remember, the waistband so worn that it could barely be called elastic anymore. This was a useful feature when his dick was as hard as it was, straining against the front of his boxers and making full use of the extra space. 

“I tried this with other people,” Jay said, opening his hands on Mike’s chest and bracing himself there, fingers flexing. “It sucked. I think you broke me.”

“Oh god,” Mike said, pitched into darkness by that. “Don’t say that. Jesus, I’m so--”

“No. You’re not allowed to say you’re sorry. And you can only touch me here.” 

Jay reached for Mike’s hands and brought them to his waist. Mike gripped him as carefully as he could manage, wanting to squeeze. Jay closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose, shivering. 

“And you can’t kiss me,” he said when he opened his eyes again.

“Okay,” Mike said, speaking as if from the bottom of a well. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what to do when Jay leaned forward with a whine and kissed him on the mouth, but he parted his lips and let Jay push his tongue inside, then accidentally ran his hands up along Jay’s sides and onto his back. Jay didn’t tell him to stop, that he was already breaking the rules, just sighed into Mike’s mouth and let him answer the kiss with timid swipes of his tongue, his hands slowly sliding back down to Jay’s waist. They both pretended not to have noticed the transgression. Jay broke the kiss with a little grunt that sounded self-admonishing and moved downward, dragging his hands over Mike’s chest as he went. 

“This is bad,” Jay said, holding Mike’s gaze.

“It-- Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Jay knelt between Mike’s legs, pushed his knees apart. “Feels too good already.” 

“Too good,” Mike repeated dumbly. He moaned and rolled his hips when Jay rubbed at his tented erection. Jay’s palm was warm and firm and perfect, even through the worn fabric. “Fuck, yes, yeah-- ah. You’re right. Too, it’s-- Oh, fuck. _Jay_ \--” 

“Don’t you dare fucking come,” Jay said, still rubbing him. “Not until I say you can.”

“Yes, yeah, okay.” Mike wondered if he should say ‘yes, sir.’ Jay would probably find that corny. Mike was willing to do anything. Not coming wouldn’t be easy, however. No one had touched him since Jay, for one definition of Jay. He’d never had all of Jay poured onto him like this. It was almost too much, the relief of taking his orders and pressing up into his touch, catching that look on Jay’s face every time their eyes met. Jay looked determined and unafraid, also like he was starving for this and only Mike could give it to him. 

“I’m gonna suck your dick,” Jay said. He tugged at the hem of Mike’s boxers until Mike lifted his ass, feeling himself blush for being the first naked one. “And then I’m gonna fuck your face, and your dick had better still be hard when I’m ready to sit on it.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Mike said, nodding.

Jay grinned like he was impressed with himself, then leaned down and took Mike into his mouth. He sighed around the head of Mike’s cock like it was the thing that had been most denied to him all his life and now he finally had it where he wanted it, right there on his hot little tongue.

Mike bit into the meat of his hand to keep the first shock of reeling pleasure from pulling him too close to his edge. He wanted to touch Jay’s hair, and focused on remembering that he couldn’t, which helped him last while Jay bobbed his head and got as much of Mike into him as he could, his hands braced on Mike’s spread apart thighs. Jay’s fingers pushed greedily into the hot flesh there, until he lifted one hand and held the base of Mike’s cock, keeping what he couldn’t fit in his mouth warm while he sucked the rest in with shameless urgency. Jay’s mouth was soaking wet, and his eyes were closed, lashes fluttering. 

“Careful,” Mike said when he was getting too close, pulling his teeth-marked hand from his mouth. “Ah, I-- _Fuck_ , Jay--” 

“Jesus,” Jay said, pulling off and looking up at Mike like he’d just remembered something he desperately needed to tell him, his hand still wrapped possessively around the base of Mike’s throbbing dick. “It’s like nobody else has said my name in so long,” he said, and he bit his lip after letting this out.

“Yeah,” Mike said, nodding, though Jay hadn’t said his name yet. He wanted to hear Jay say it, needed to, felt like he would disappear entirely if he didn’t, so he understood. 

“I mean, they have,” Jay said, crawling up to lean over Mike on all fours, staring down into his face. “But not the way you do.”

“I love you so much,” Mike blurted, though it was the wrong time and Jay possibly wanted to hear this even less than _I’m sorry_. 

“I don’t need you to explain,” Jay said, sharply. He kissed Mike’s cheek with the same sharpness, as if it was the gentlest way to ask him to shut up. “I know that’s why my name sounds, when you-- I’m not stupid, just cursed.” 

“If you really think you’re only doing this ‘cause of a curse, you have to stop right now,” Mike said, his hands going to Jay’s waist again.

Jay snorted. “So you’re the only one who gets to lie?”

“Jay--”

Jay shut him up with another kiss, and this time Mike kissed back like he had the right to, licking at Jay’s lips and invading Jay’s mouth with his tongue, sitting up onto his elbows to deepen it. 

“I missed you,” Mike said when Jay pulled back to catch his breath. “Even when you were-- When I had half of you. Could you feel it? How I missed this you? The real you?”

Jay narrowed his eyes. Mike became aware of his pounding heartbeat, heard it reverberating in his ears. He’d said the wrong thing, maybe. 

“I couldn’t feel it,” Jay said. “No. It was like watching through a keyhole while everything I’d ever wanted happened to someone else. But it was happening to me. So that made it worse. Like this kite I’d been flying all my life was up there in the air getting everything good while I stood on the ground trying to stay not-dead enough to keep hold of the string.”

“I--”

“Can we not talk about that shit right now?” Jay sat back, frowning, and scrambled out of his briefs, his hard dick popping free, shining slick with precome in the moonlight. “It’s all very uninteresting when you hear it out loud, trust me.”

“Who’ve you told it to?” Mike asked, distressed. 

“You want to start talking about Garrett while I’m naked and sitting on you?”

“Oh fuck, no!”

“Then stop questioning me.” 

Jay grinned when Mike nodded and pressed his lips together, obedient. He let Jay maneuver him where he wanted to, sliding him toward the center of the bed so that his head wasn’t so close to the edge of the mattress. They were facing away from Mike’s pillow, and Mike thought there was probably something significant about this, but didn’t want to conclude that Jay had arranged them this way so there would be no threat of him falling asleep here afterward, in Mike’s arms.

This didn’t seem like the kind of sex that would lead to cuddling, regardless. Jay moved forward to straddle Mike’s face and only hesitated for one awkward moment before bumping his dick against Mike’s lips, asking for entry. Mike swallowed him up gladly, so overcome by how good it felt to be near suffocated with Jay’s need of him that he forgot the rules again and grabbed two handfuls of Jay’s ass to anchor him in place while he sucked him off, trying to breathe through his excitement. Jay didn’t protest Mike’s wandering hands, just gasped and dragged his cock out a little before fucking himself back into Mike’s mouth. He was shaking and moving carefully, but only at first. Mike dug his fingers into Jay’s ass cheeks and squeezed hard, granting him permission to be rough and sloppy.

“Fuck,” Jay said, biting this out like it hurt, his hips twitching with rhythmless greed and his thighs pressing in around Mike’s face. “Fuck yeah, that’s, unh--”

Mike moaned around him and choked a little with laughter at the answering noise Jay made, which was squeak-like. Jay tipped forward to put his hands on the mattress and ignored Mike’s choking, or maybe didn’t notice it. Jay was close, making sputtering sounds of overwhelmed pleasure while his skin got even hotter under Mike’s hands, sweltering.

Mike knew exactly how to make him come, though they’d never done this before. He nudged his fingers in between Jay’s ass cheeks in sneaky degrees. Jay pushed his ass back just as eagerly as he was fucking Mike’s mouth, and when Mike dragged one dry fingertip over his hole he went completely still, breath sucked in. Then he was flooding Mike’s mouth with come and curling over him, a trembling, panting mess. 

“Sorry,” Mike said as soon as Jay had pulled out of his mouth. Jay shifted down on shaking limbs before flopping over onto his side, just short of pressed to Mike’s shoulder. His breath was hot there anyway, felt good.

“Fuh, what? For what?” Jay opened his eyes and stared at Mike, still breathing hard and spacey from coming.

“I-- I don’t know. For everything.” 

“Does it still taste like frosting?” Jay asked, pressing two fingertips to Mike’s lips. “To you?”

“Nope,” Mike said, and he curled his arm around Jay’s shoulders cautiously. Relief was still washing over him, though his dick was so hard it hurt, because the taste of Jay was just as it should be, bitter and uncomfortably real, nothing sweet about it. “Here, see,” he said, moving in for a kiss. 

“It never tasted that way to me,” Jay said, rearing back. “So there’s no point in-- _mphf_.”

He let Mike kiss him anyway, for a couple of seconds. When Jay pulled back he glared at the dopey look of satisfaction on Mike’s face, but Mike didn’t buy it. Jay liked that he could make a lovesick idiot out of Mike. He didn’t want to like it, but he did.

“Stay still,” Jay said, sitting up with visible effort and reaching for the condom on the windowsill. “There’s one more thing I want to try.”

Mike’s heart was in his throat. He was too wound up, wouldn’t last very long, but maybe Jay didn’t need him to. Jay would be sensitive after coming, and he looked like he wanted to curl up and sleep almost as much as he wanted to sit on Mike’s cock and stare down at Mike like doing so meant Jay had conquered him like territory, once and for all.

“You don’t have to use that,” Mike said when Jay tore open the condom packet. “I mean, not on my behalf.”

“I know that,” Jay said, though Mike wasn’t sure how he could. “Don’t want you dripping out of me all night when I’m done.”

Mike groaned, his dick throbbing at the idea of Jay being done with him, using his cock and then going on his merry way. It wouldn’t be hot later, maybe, but while he watched Jay roll the condom onto him with calm precision, as if Mike was his property, it just fucking was.

“Fuck,” Mike said, whispering this out while Jay slicked him up, the little bottle of travel-size lube popped open on the windowsill. “Jay--”

“What,” Jay said, staring him down. “Don’t come,” he said, before Mike could try to articulate anything better than astonished swears and Jay’s name.

“I won’t, but--” Mike whined and bucked in Jay’s grip, flushed all over at the look of evil delight on Jay’s face. He’d always had a little demon in him, and would have held his own down there, even without Mike, eventually. Mike was the soft one who would have been scattered into the wind too easily. “Nnh, you should,” Mike said, realizing that Jay wanted him to beg, or something close to begging. “You should, ah, please, if you want--”

“If I want what.”

“If, if you want to, nhn, to come while-- You’re, while I’m-- Oh fuck please Jay, just climb on.”

“Climb on?” Jay snickered and let go of Mike’s dick, which was a relief and agony, too. “Okay, please tell me you say that to everyone you sleep with. ‘Climb on,’ jesus.” 

Mike’s mouth moved stupidly. He wasn’t sure that he hadn’t said that to someone before. He was usually drunk when he had sex. It occurred to him, as Jay positioned himself over the head of his dick and paused there, biting his lip and settling Mike in place against where he wanted him, that this would be the first time he’d had sex entirely sober in maybe-- Ever?

“Oh fuck,” Mike said, whimpering this out softly as Jay began to take him in. He wished he had the presence of mind to say something better, like that he should have spent his whole life doing this, though he also sort of forgave himself for being too afraid to ever try, because it was everything he wanted in a way that made having it so dangerous. Now he would never be able to live without this, already.

“Mike,” Jay said, finally, with his head thrown back as he worked himself down, his cock twitching back toward hardness between his spread open legs. 

Mike made a sob-like noise in response and grabbed Jay’s sweat-slick thighs, resisting the urge to thrust up into him before he was ready, wanting so badly to bury the rest of himself into that perfect, clinging heat. Jay was tight, almost frighteningly so. He was clenching up around Mike as he took more of him in, gasping like he couldn’t believe his ass hadn’t met Mike’s hips yet. Without the condom, Mike would have come already, pathetically overcome by the way Jay was breathing hard and how he could feel it on his dick, would have ruined this. If Mike had been drunk he would have said something stupid, ruined this. If they’d done this when Jay was nineteen, that day in his bedroom or on any of the nervous, giddy not-dates that followed, Mike would have fucked it up beyond all repair. They wouldn’t have even been friends long, if they’d really exposed themselves to each other back then. 

It had to happen now, like this: Jay heaving his breath and moaning at the back of his throat as he came to a full seat on Mike’s dick, his hands braced on Mike’s pecs and squeezing them for traction, or comfort. They had to see everything awful that could possibly happen, or not happen, over all those years, before they could know this wasn’t just fucking or true love or even fate. It was like a reclamation of the entire universe of everything they’d both always wanted, and now it belonged only to them.

Or so Mike felt, looking up into Jay’s swimmy eyes when they were fully locked together, Jay squirming on Mike’s dick with little whimpers, trying to get comfortable. Mike moved his hands up to Jay’s waist and rested them there lightly, wanting to be good. He also wanted to fuck himself up into Jay like a madman while gushing needless love confessions, but he kept still and quiet, throbbing inside him. 

“Ah,” Jay said, and something about the desperate way he was looking at Mike made it seem like he wanted Mike to talk. 

“Feels good?” Mike said, softly, hoping this sounded sexy and not just like a dumb question. He was sweaty, wanting more than anything to give Jay whatever he needed.

“Mmph,” Jay said, nodding once and tipping over onto Mike’s chest to pant there. He hissed when this pulled him upward along the shaft of Mike’s dick a little, then moaned when he pressed his hips back down. 

“Fuck yes,” Mike said, gritting this out between clenched teeth. Even that tiny bit of friction was getting him close, because this was Jay, his Jay, all of him, and while Mike was sure Jay had taken some dick before and maybe even recently, which Mike didn’t want to hear about, not even in dirty talk, he was comfortable in the belief that nobody else had ever been so deep inside Jay, not even close.

“Nhn, ah,” Jay said, already reduced to shakiness and bitten-off noises, his cock rock hard against Mike’s belly while he fucked himself on Mike’s dick, still timidly. “Fuh-- Fuck--” 

“That what you needed?” Mike murmured, finally unable to resist. He palmed Jay’s ass, rubbing his hands over his spread-open cheeks, soothing him and taunting him at the same time. “Hmm?”

Jay sucked in his breath and sat up straight, seemed to gain a second emotional wind. He stared down at Mike with his mouth pressed shut and exhaled slowly through his nose, rolling his hips just enough to get Mike groaning and grabbing for his waist again. Jay was smiling, mostly in his eyes. Mike dragged his thumbs over the points of Jay’s hips and whimpered in surrender when Jay fucked himself on him a little more roughly, deeply, watching Mike’s face. Jay’s mouth fell open when Mike jutted his hips upward, testing to see if this would be welcome. Mike grinned through his wince when Jay grabbed two handfuls of his chest hair and pulled, because it felt like Jay was angry that he’d liked that so much, like he wanted to punish Mike for it.

Mike was good with that. It sounded perfect, actually.

As soon as Jay really started moving this dynamic marked the whole mood of their first fuck: Jay sort of growling down at Mike while he moved recklessly on him, like he resented that it was Mike who was making him feel this way. He slammed himself down onto Mike’s dick like he thought he could hurt Mike by doing so, the hot clench of his ass shooting insane pleasure through every inch of Mike in the process. The chest hair-pulling continued, which helped Mike last. 

Mike made a game of trying to get close enough to Jay’s mouth to kiss him, and got bitten for his trouble. When he came it took him totally off guard, maybe because Jay had leaned down to bite Mike’s nipple like the little monster inside him had tasted flesh and now couldn’t be sated. Mike felt Jay’s lips brush just over his as he was unloading inside him, eyes closed, and he was still thinking blearily about how to make Jay come when Jay leaned back to jack himself off in a rapid series of practiced strokes, still seated on Mike’s overstimulated dick. Jay groaned when he came all over Mike’s chest, his eyes slitted just enough to hold Mike’s gaze as he did. It made Mike whimper again, all this good shit happening at once, and when he yanked Jay off his dick Jay slumped into his arms like a ragdoll, collapsing. 

That the condom was there was annoying, because it would necessitate Mike’s getting out of the bed, and was already uncomfortably slimy around his softening dick. He was suddenly sure Jay had insisted on one more for this reason than to catch the come he didn’t want dribbling out of his ass: because when Mike disposed of it, Jay would be able to make his escape. As it was, condom still in place, Jay was surrendered completely in Mike’s arms, breathing hard against his collarbone and letting Mike stroke his back, kiss his hair. 

“It’s so hot in here,” Jay said, muttering this against Mike’s humid skin. 

“I don’t run the air,” Mike said. “Can’t afford it. Want me to open the window?”

He regretted offering, because that was an excuse for Jay to move out of his arms. Jay nodded and sat up, pushing his sweat-damp hair off his forehead and staring down at Mike with heavy-lidded eyes. He scanned Mike’s spread out body and touched the rim of the condom. Mike whined and flinched at the brush of Jay’s fingers, still oversensitive. 

“Get rid of that thing,” Jay said, shoving at Mike’s shoulder. “I’ll open the window.”

Mike’s heart lifted. Did this mean Jay wouldn’t ditch him immediately? He gave Jay’s shoulder a parting kiss before climbing out of bed and disposing of the condom, not even bothering to ball it up in a wad of toilet paper. He used his bath towel to wipe the come off his chest and hurried back to the bed without daring to meet his own eyes in the bathroom mirror. 

Jay had cracked the window and was sitting with his elbow on the sill, chin propped in his hand as he stared thoughtfully out at the night. He’d already put his boxer briefs back on. 

“So you’re back?” Mike said, grabbing his boxers and then just standing there holding them over his dick while he waited for Jay to answer the question.

“No,” Jay said, still staring out the window.

“Oh, so you’re just home for-- uh. So, you like L.A.? It’s good there?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jay said. He moaned and rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Fuck, um. I should go, actually.” 

“No, what, hang on--” Mike stepped into his boxers, clumsy with exhaustion and eagerness. He stumbled toward the bed as he put them on and fell onto it too heavily, making Jay look over with a frown, as if Mike had rudely interrupted his thoughtful reverie. “Stay a minute,” Mike said, reaching for him. He put his hand on the small of Jay’s back, felt Jay flinch a little and seem to consider what to do about Mike wanting to cuddle him, how best to handle it. “I miss you,” Mike said, his voice pinching up. “We don’t have to talk about L.A., or Hell. Or anything. I feel like I could just stare at you for five hours and be happy.”

Jay snorted and looked away. The back of his neck was flushed, maybe from sex. He sighed when Mike gave him a very soft kiss there. 

“I knew coming back here would be dangerous,” Jay said. 

“Dangerous how?” 

Jay shook his head and turned to face Mike, who swooned forward so that the tips of their noses were touching. Mike had to keep biting back effusive statements about how good Jay smelled, how hot he looked, how much Mike loved him. This was all stuff Jay already knew, and not helpful. 

“Did you want me before?” Mike asked, because it was the only thing that really mattered. Their journey through time and space had attempted to show him the many ways he’d failed to catch Jay when he fell, but he still needed to hear it from Jay, the real Jay. “Before all this, before I fucked everything up. Did you really want me anyway?”

“Are you fucking joking?” Jay said, glaring at him. “That day when I met you to sell you _Quadead_ , when you drove me back to my house? I wanted you to pull over and drag me into the woods and-- I mean, not really. But I thought about it. God, I remember the way your _car smelled_ , ‘cause it smelled like you, like-- I jerked off to it, to that fucking car smell and the thought of you manhandling me in the backseat. And you laughed at my jokes. And I thought, I bet he doesn't laugh at many people’s jokes. I barely even knew you and I already wanted you to like me best of all.”

"I've always liked you best of all, Jay." 

"I know," Jay said, sounding like he didn't. 

Mike leaned in to kiss Jay’s neck again, moving carefully. Jay was breathing hard again, agitated. Maybe Mike shouldn’t have brought up the past yet, and all the wasted years.

“Please stay,” Mike said, murmuring this close to Jay’s ear before pressing his lips there, soft. “I have-- The worst dreams, I feel like I haven’t slept in years.” 

“Oh, so it’s my job to fix that for you?” Jay scoffed and pushed Mike away, scooting toward the edge of the bed. “After what you did?” He snatched his t-shirt and stood, glaring. “You don’t get to just-- Have me!” 

“I know,” Mike said, feeling kicked. He knew he deserved it and held Jay’s gaze, fighting the urge to feel sorry for himself. He could do that later, alone. 

“And it’s fucked up, how much I--” Jay looked down at himself and back up at Mike as if the rest should go unsaid. “You dragged me to Hell and now I can’t even want anyone else. Worse, actually. I can’t even _think_ about anything but this, because you’re too far away and I want--”

Jay groaned in frustration and turned from the bed, pulling his shirt on. Mike sat there watching, not sure if he was experiencing a sense of victory or defeat. It was both, because Jay still wanted him but wished he didn’t. Mike got the sense it had been that way for Jay for a long time, well before they waded into Hell together.

“I’m here for whatever you need,” Mike said. “And I’ll leave you alone if you want.” 

“You will not. You’re in my head. No, worse. You’re in my fucking bones. It’s too late.” 

Mike was aroused by this, also touched on a heart-bursting level, but he kept his expression neutral when Jay turned back toward him after stepping into his jeans. 

“It’s too late for me, too,” Mike said, forcing himself to sound grim about this. He wasn’t. Having his heart hitched to Jay’s forever, no matter how far apart they got, was his favorite thing about himself.

“Why’d it take you eighteen years to ask me to go for hot dogs with you?” Jay asked, looking so suddenly broken up about it that Mike stood quickly from the bed. Jay shook his head and stepped back, almost tripping over one of his shoes. “It took you that long to give up on anything better and decide you’d better just settle for me?”

“What!” Mike said, so loudly that Jay’s shoulders jumped. “No! Jesus _christ_ no! That’s not--” 

“Forget it,” Jay said, squatting down to grab his shoes. He hugged them against his chest, walking toward the door like he was going to put them on after he left. 

“Wait!” 

Mike turned and grabbed the leather jacket. It was heavy and smelled incredibly good, like Jay plus extra exotic grooming products only available in L.A., presumably. Jay was putting his shoes on near the front door, and he wouldn’t meet Mike’s eyes when Mike knelt down beside him and draped the jacket over his shoulders. 

“I wanted to protect you from my bullshit,” Mike said. He rubbed Jay’s shoulder and ducked his face in close. Jay was tying his shoe, still wouldn’t look at him. “No, that’s-- A fucking lie,” Mike said, and Jay glanced up in surprise, finally met his gaze. “I wanted to protect myself, uh. I thought you’d reject me. That you either liked girls, or nobody, or guys who were nothing like me, or even if you wanted it a little, too, you’d be just as scared as me and you’d laugh in my face and we’d never mention it again. That’s the only reason for any of this. Just old-fashioned me being a coward and you being what I wanted more than anything, so of course I couldn’t imagine actually having you, because look at me, Jay. Not a lot of good stuff comes my way. Just you, really.” 

Jay leaned in and kissed Mike on the lips, cupping his cheek. There was a sweetness in it that was cold, too, like goodbye, and Mike was too terrified to make himself react. He just let Jay kiss him, didn’t even close his eyes. 

“I gotta go,” Jay said, standing. 

“Why,” Mike asked, though he knew he wasn’t allowed to object. 

“I have-- A whole life, I’m finally myself out there, and not just your appendage.” 

“I never thought of you that way!”

“Now that’s a fucking lie!”

Mike got to his feet, wobbling a little, tired and heartbroken, watching Jay undo the locks on the door. 

“So that’s it?” Mike said, telling himself to stop, to not be angry. “You’re just gonna fly back to L.A. now?”

“Don’t fuck with me about this,” Jay said, turning to point his finger at Mike. “I don’t want any goddamn questions about what I’m going to do. You shithead, you-- You’re the reason I have no fucking clue!”

A neighbor pounded on the wall angrily. Jay groaned and left, slamming the door behind him. 

Mike went back to bed, leaving the door unlocked in case Jay wanted to come back in and cuddle him while he slept. He felt more euphoric than crushed, guiltily. Jay was suffering-- again, still --and it was his fault.

But Jay was also back, and Mike’s bedsheets smelled like him, and he’d left his little bottle of lube on the windowsill like he might need to use it here again.

**

Jay started showing up on a regular basis after that, randomly and usually in the middle of the night, and at first it was like paradise for Mike: the thrill of waiting and hearing his angry knocking, the force of Jay dragging him to bed like a heedless cyclone of pent-up need, and the precious few seconds when Jay would collapse into his arms after an orgasm, too well-fucked to protest Mike’s stubborn attempts to cuddle him. 

But then Jay would remember himself and push Mike away, making excuses to leave the bed that Mike couldn’t argue with. He’d get up for a glass of water, or to throw away the condom, or if Mike tried to keep him there by saying he’d do these things himself, he’d say he had to take a leak and would go into the bathroom and run the faucet. 

Worse than being opposed to cuddling, Jay didn’t want to talk to Mike about anything real. He would tolerate some mumbled post-sex conversation about movies that were coming out that month or what Rich’s girlfriend was like, but he didn’t want to talk about their trip through Hell, or his life in L.A., or the future, and would shimmy out of Mike’s arms if anything they discussed even approached one of these subjects.

Halfway through October, Jay hadn’t shared any kind of plan about going back to L.A. or staying in Milwaukee with Mike, and Mike had started to miss Jay horribly in whole new ways, because he had parts of Jay back, but others were cordoned off behind velvet ropes that Mike obsessed over more and more, until touching and tasting and talking to the Jay he still had access to was kind of painful. It was like Jay wanted Mike to feel what he had, that far-away drifting sense of loss that pricked at Mike even while they were sweaty and pressed together, as close as they could physically get.

Which was fair, Mike had to admit.

“Where are you even staying?” Mike finally asked, knowing Jay wouldn’t like this question. They were lying in Mike’s bed together after exchanging blow jobs, which was the best time for talking and semi-cuddling, if Jay was willing to rest for a minute before ordering Mike to fuck him. 

“My mom’s house,” Jay said, eyes closed. He seemed especially tired that night, which was why Mike had hit him with this question. He’d been wondering.

“House-- Where? In _Illinois_?!”

“Yeah. It’s not that far.”

“It’s an hour and a half each way! Jesus, you’re doing that drive almost every night?”

Mike bit his tongue, regretting that he’d pointed out how often Jay was showing up for his fill of Mike’s dick. Jay wouldn’t like having that thrown in his face.

Jay sat up and gave Mike a predictably irritated look. He was perfect in the light through the window, loosened fringe hanging over his forehead and cheeks still flushed from coming. He got red all over when he came, and it took a while to fade. 

“Where the hell else am I supposed to stay?” he asked.

“Here!” Mike said, idiotically, unable to help it.

“Milwaukee hotels are expensive, you know I gave up my apartment--”

“Jay, jesus christ. I mean here. This shithole you’re currently occupying, right now, with me.” 

Jay snorted. “Yeah, no. Like I would ever escape from your lair if I even kept a toothbrush here.”

Mike was unprepared for how much that hurt. He’d fooled himself into thinking he was wearing Jay down a little at a time, with sex, even though nothing had really changed since that first time, when he laid down his rules.

“What?” Jay said when he saw the look on Mike’s face. 

“Nothing,” Mike said, pulling away from him. “I guess it took me this long to figure out you’re doing all this just to break my heart, for revenge. Like it wasn’t already broken, like-- Like I wasn’t already miserable, without you? If you just want me to feel like shit, it’s as easy as leaving. You don’t have to suffer my company to do it.”

Mike heard all this as if from a distance, cringing. He still didn’t think he had the right to have a rant at Jay about anything, ever, but maybe hearing one would help Jay, if what he really wanted was to escape.

“Everything’s always about you,” Jay said, pulling Mike’s bedsheets over his lap so he wouldn’t be exposed while they had this argument. Mike had done no such thing, was just sitting with his legs slung over the side of the bed and his dick on full display, whatever.

“Yeah, I get it, you hate me!” Mike said, wishing he’d remembered to keep his voice down, for Jay’s sake and also because his neighbor had chewed him out in the mail room for all the middle of the night noises that were suddenly coming from his apartment. “What do you want me to feel about that? Good? Fuck you!”

Jay grinned like he’d just unlocked a difficult level in a video game, like here was the big boss he really wanted to fight. 

“Sorry,” he said, pressing his lips together when he saw the newly blown-apart look Mike gave him in response. “I’m not-- I’m not laughing at you, just. Finding it weird how normal and good it feels to be yelled at by you. I’m-- Fucked up, clearly. I’m laughing at myself.”

“I’m not yelling at you,” Mike said, though he had been, technically. “I just thought you’d like to know what a good job you’re doing at crushing my spirit.” 

“Oh please, you love this.”

Mike could say that he didn’t, but it wouldn’t be entirely true. He loved that Jay wanted him, needed him, and that he was as fucked up and difficult about what he wanted and needed as Mike had always feared. It was like being in love with the shadow who stalked you through a horror movie, an untouchable creature that wanted its prey to crawl down into some swampy territory and fight dirty. Mike lurched over to grab Jay’s shoulders and pinned him down hard against the bed. 

“No,” Mike said when Jay groped for his leather jacket, where he always kept a condom for this stage of the night. Mike pressed his palm over Jay’s wrist, though Jay had already stopped reaching and was staring up at Mike, breathing harder. “You can have my dick bare or not at all,” Mike said, growling this down into Jay’s smug face. “How’s that, you little shit.”

“You’re so awful,” Jay said, grinning huge. “Fuck, I missed you.” 

Mike took that as a yes and pinned both of Jay’s wrists overhead, pulling his arms up high so it would hurt a little and leaning on them hard when he plunged his tongue into Jay’s mouth. Jay moaned and kissed back, his mouth all wet and sloppy already, tasting of Mike’s dick. He wrapped his legs around Mike’s back and held him in place, which was new.

“Fuck yeah,” Jay said, arching shamelessly when Mike pressed two lube-slicked fingers into him. Jay hissed and worked himself down against the intrusion, and whined when Mike bit at his chest. They were both obsessed with each other’s chests, would torture each other there while fucking and then sneak their hands over the sore spots afterward, soothing. Mike liked to think it was because Jay was drawn to his heartbeat and more generally to his heart, even if he just wanted to devour it.

“Last chance to tell me to fuck off,” Mike said when he was sitting up on his knees, slicking his bare cock and letting Jay watch, lips parted. “‘Cause if you don’t, I’m gonna fill your ass with every fucking drop of come I got in me, and it’s gonna leak out of you all the way back to Rockton.” 

Jay smirked like the name of his hometown was funny in this context. Mike supposed it probably was.

“Fuck me like you want me sore all the way home, too,” Jay said, lifting his legs up against Mike’s sides.

Mike slid into him in one long, smooth thrust. They both groaned, and Jay squeezed Mike’s biceps hard. If he had any fingernails to speak of, they would have bitten into Mike’s skin, but he’d chewed them all down to nubs as usual. Mike kissed him as he settled fully into him, thinking dizzily that there was nothing about Jay he didn’t fetishize, ragged fingernails and all. 

“Oh fuck,” Jay said, breathless when Mike pulled back. “I’ve, ah. I’ve never--”

Jay blinked rapidly. Mike supposed he’d never let anyone fuck him without condom before. He licked over Jay’s panting mouth, feeling possessive and victorious. 

“I’m so fucked-up in love with you,” Mike said, muttering this down into Jay’s awestruck face, though it was the wrong time to say so, like always. “Like, I love your fucking fingernails, Jay. And your teeth. All your bones, I guess.”

“Oh,” Jay said softly, like this was the first time he’d heard it. He hooked his ankles together behind Mike’s back, nudging him closer, though there was no way to get closer, really. Maybe he just wanted Mike to move, to fuck him, to get all growly and mean again. 

“You’re so warm,” Mike said, speaking this into Jay’s mouth, to change the subject, and because it was true. They kissed deeply and breathed into each other, Mike starting to grind his dick into Jay a little. He laughed under his breath when Jay squeaked like Mike’s weight was crushing his bones. 

Then it became evident that this wasn’t the cause of the squeaking: Jay was actually coming, already, somehow, pinching his eyes shut and moaning while he unloaded all over Mike’s stomach. 

“Suh, sorry,” Jay said, his dick still pulsing. “Jesus, _ah_ , fuck, sorry--”

“For what?” Mike asked, and kissed him again. 

“I don’t know,” Jay said, sounding like he’d cry, maybe just from embarrassment. He shrugged and sniffled, staring up at Mike. “It just, ah. It feels good, like. Different. Warm, yeah.” 

Mike figured Jay was talking about having Mike’s bare dick inside him, or maybe about what it felt like to fuck after they’d completely wrung each other out emotionally and fought about it. They kissed again, and Mike moaned for how spit-slick and puffy Jay’s lips were, post-orgasm. He started fucking Jay in slow drags, and moaned again for the keening, overwhelmed noises Jay made, his eyes pinched shut again. 

“Need me to pull out?” Mike asked. Jay always got all hypersensitive after he came, would shiver just for Mike’s fingers brushing over his side. 

“No, no, no,” Jay said, wrapping both arms around Mike’s neck and pulling him down so their chests were pressed fully together. “Don’t stop, please, I’m good, s’good, so good--”

Jay was sort of dazed, in a way Mike hadn’t seen yet. Mike loved it, and fucked into him harder without thinking about it, letting everything he wanted roll through him and then back into Jay, pushing it in as deep as he could. Jay made soft ah, ah, ah sounds and held Mike tight against him, squeezing up around his dick every time he bottomed out. 

“Gonna come,” Mike said, groaning this out with regret when he couldn’t hold back any longer. He wanted to stay in Jay all night, but it was too good, Jay was too sweet and surrendered to Mike’s increasingly untamed thrusting. Jay’s mouth hung open around his helpless noises, his eyes closed and his head tilted back to expose his flushed throat while he just let Mike fucking _have_ him, the way he’d said he wouldn’t, or shouldn’t. Jay seemed to like it just as much as Mike did, this act of being bad together. He was a little hard between their sweltering bodies, keeping Mike close so he could feel it. Mike licked Jay’s chin and felt his climax winding tighter, rushing through his blood. 

“Please,” Jay said, going tense all over like he was the one who was about to come.

“Please what?” Mike asked, pulling his hips back. On the next push in he’d be done for.

“Fill me up,” Jay said, cracking his eyes so Mike could see they’d gotten wet. “Fuh, fucking need it, I need you, _Mike_ , please--” 

Mike was too gone to make any sense of that beyond shoving into Jay and coming hard inside him, burying his groan against Jay’s throat so that the neighbors wouldn’t complain. Jay shuddered like it was his orgasm, too, his arms and legs squeezing in around Mike like he was desperate to hold him there and not let a single drop escape. 

“Oh fuck,” Jay said, petting Mike’s hair as Mike regained a thought process, sorta. He didn’t really want to rise out of this feeling or pull out of Jay, though Jay was still tight and kept clenching in a way that was twinging near-painful on Mike’s spent dick. “I could feel it, hah-- When you, like. That throbbing feeling.” He moaned and made himself shut up, turning his face against Mike’s head. Mike had felt Jay shiver all over with pleasure at the feeling of Mike’s dick pulsing on his tongue, so he got it, understood the sentiment. 

“Jay,” Mike said, weakly, feeling like he’d poured all his remaining energy straight into Jay. He didn’t want it back, just wanted to drift right into sleep still on top of him, but he had to ease his dick out first, and hissed at the overstimulation as he did. 

The flush on Jay’s face deepened when Mike looked up at him, forcing his attention away from his sticky cock and the mess that was already dribbling onto the bedsheets. Mike flopped over onto his side and rolled Jay against him, dragging the sheet up to their hips so Jay wouldn’t think too much about the state of his ass. 

“C’mere,” Mike muttered, kissing him. Jay kissed back with sudden timidness, his hand pressing over Mike’s still-heavy heartbeat. Mike wanted to say something more when he pulled back and their eyes met, like: you belong right here, fuck you for pretending you don’t, but he’d asked a lot of Jay already and didn’t want to startle him out of the bed. 

“It’s so good with you,” Jay said, speaking softly and looking kind of spooked by this as he studied Mike’s face. “It’s like a whole other thing.”

“‘Cause you love me,” Mike said, almost wincing when he heard himself say so. He’d meant to say _‘cause I love you_.

Jay smiled a little, sheepish, then hid his hot face against Mike’s chest.

They drifted off to sleep together like that, but only for what felt to Mike like five minutes. He woke to the feeling of Jay climbing over him, heading for the bathroom. Mike felt dangerously close to real sleep as he listened to Jay cleaning up in there, running the faucet and flushing the toilet. Mike wanted to stay awake, felt like they should talk. He rolled himself over so he’d at least be facing the bathroom door when Jay came out, and fought to keep his eyes partially open. 

Jay came out wearing his briefs, gave Mike a nervous look and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. Watching him do this made Mike remember something. 

“Hey,” Mike said, reaching over the edge of the mattress and stretching his fingers out toward Jay, as if he could compel him with the Force. “C’mere, I wanna tell you something.” 

“I should get going,” Jay said. “It’s a long drive back.” 

“I know,” Mike said, suppressing the angry groan he wanted to unleash, because what the fuck, Jay could at least sleep here until dawn. “It won’t take long. C’mere, humor me.”

Jay sighed and put the empty glass down by the sink. Mike could see in how he was walking that he was worn out, sleepy and achy and in need of the kind of comfort that he was still afraid to take from Mike. He came to the bed and sat, but was stiff when Mike hoisted himself up and pulled him close, into a kind of hug. 

“You drinking that water reminded me,” Mike said. He stroked Jay’s shoulder with his knuckles and prayed this wouldn’t ruin everything. “When you came here in the middle of the night that time, last winter, without your coat.” Mike glanced at Jay’s throat but didn’t dare mention that part, just watched him swallow heavily, his gaze slipping away from Mike’s. “Obviously there were lots of times when I fucked things up, with you, but that one-- God, I fucking wish I’d got in bed with you. I had this dumb ass idea that it would spook you, me crowding you in bed or whatever, ‘cause you were already shaken enough. Now I see how stupid that was, now-- I’d give anything to go back to that night and be there when you woke up scared.” 

Jay just sat there staring into space, frowning slightly. Mike ran his fingertips down to the small of Jay’s back and then up again, across his shoulders. He was ready for whatever. Jay could dagger him in the heart again, as many times as he needed to. Mike had just needed to say that before he did.

“I thought you were gonna ask what happened to me that night,” Jay said. He had his hands pressed between his knees like a kid, shoulders rolled forward.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Mike said, and he meant it. “I just had to tell you that. I know you don’t want to hear that I’m sorry--”

“This guy I’d gone home with tried to choke me,” Jay said. “I mean really-- I guess I thought it was like, a sex game, at first, and maybe it was, but he had this look in his eyes. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my fucking life, like. Not like he hated me or wanted to hurt me even, but like he felt nothing. Like a human suit with nothing inside. I just knew-- I had to get out of there, so. I kneed him in the dick and I ran. That was a nice coat, too, the one I left there. And fuck, Mike, yeah, goddammit-- I wanted you in that bed with me so bad, after.”

Mike pulled Jay against his chest, hugging him there, and then down under the blankets again when Jay didn’t squirm away. Jay pressed his face to Mike’s throat and hooked a leg over his side, his arms curled against Mike’s chest. He didn’t seem upset, wasn’t shaking or sniffling or anything. Mike was trembling a little, with rage, at the thought of this person who had hurt Jay, the idea that he was still out there and maybe still had Jay’s coat. 

“I was so drunk, too,” Jay said, his lips sluggish and warm against Mike’s skin. “All I could think about was you, how I had to get to you and you’d fix it somehow.”

“I shoulda killed the guy,” Mike said, and Jay laughed.

“Nah,” he said. “I didn’t want you to get all pissed off and make a scene. I just wanted to feel safe. It’s crazy how safe I felt in your car, that day we met. I mean, I was trying to convince myself I shouldn’t. I was all jittery. But I just-- Knew you. You looked at me across the table in that fast food place and I felt, like. I dunno. Found.”

Mike held Jay tighter and rubbed his face in Jay’s hair. His hair smelled slightly different after sex, Mike had noticed. Less prissy, more like sweat. It was wonderful, and though he wanted badly to stay awake, it was also dragging Mike rapidly toward sleep. 

For the first night in a long time, Mike didn’t have any dreams. He was almost bummed about it when he woke up, because he’d been looking forward to waking from the usual bad ones and having Jay there with him.

Only it was morning and Jay was gone. Mike sat up and looked around his pathetic apartment. With the bathroom door open, there was no place out of his immediate sight where Jay could have hidden himself away. He’d just left, like always.

Mike looked at the windowsill. The little bottle of lube was still there. Mike scowled at it, not sure why he’d thought for half a second that this meant fucking anything. They’d used most of it up by then anyway. 

He checked his phone. Nothing. He considered sending a text to Jay, just a single all-caps word: ASSHOLE. But Jay didn’t deserve that, even now. Also, there was a folded note on the fridge with Mike’s name on it, pinned there with a magnetized pizza coupon.

Mike took it off the fridge and just held it for a while, then laughed at himself, because he was still this afraid of Jay. He’d been to Hell and back and this was what scared him, opening a note.

 _Hey sorry I had to leave to catch a flight. I have to go back to L.A. to take care of some stuff. I have responsibilities at work. We were on a two week shooting break that ends tomorrow. I was gonna tell you last night but then things progressed in the way that they did and I didn't want to wreck it._

_I was also thinking the other thing about that night when I lost my coat is that I was afraid when I got to your place you either wouldn't be home or wouldn't be alone. And when you opened the door and put your sweatshirt on me I was so relieved it was like primal, like you'd just saved my life. And maybe you did, since my drunk ass might have froze to death otherwise. So you should know that, and who cares now about whatever you did and didn't do, you were there when I needed you and it's not like I was out there being brave either…_

_I will regret writing this probably but I also love you on a skeletal level. And all your other bloody disgusting layers, too. Even the worst ones. Actually the worst ones are my favorites. Sorry I'm not better at any of this, but the reason I never got any practice at it is that I was waiting for you, so I guess you deserve the monster you created._

_Jay_

Mike moaned and brought the note to his face. He pressed it there with both hands, firmly enough to make the words seep into his skin but not enough to smudge them off the paper. Then his eyes were leaking so he had to take it away, to save it. 

His phone buzzed with a text from Jay, as if Jay had felt this from across the universe or wherever the fuck he currently was.

_Did you get my note_

_Yeah_ , Mike sent back. 

He wasn’t sure what to say next. Thanks? What the fuck? When are you coming back? He sat at the kitchen table and stared at his phone, waiting to see how Jay wanted to play this.

He was considering a morning beer and also remembering that he had a shift that he was already late for when the phone buzzed with a new text from Jay.

It was a picture text. A skinny old guy in the airport lounge was wearing a grey driving cap. 

_this guy killed plinkett and stole his hat_ , Jay sent.

 _damn he beat me to it_ , Mike sent back, his heart sinking. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. The note was a miracle. Jay wasn’t going to send further love declarations via text.

 _boarding now_ , Jay sent, fifteen minutes later. 

Mike debated how to respond. Jay would have to put his phone in airplane mode soon. There was limited time.

He ran through several alternatives in his head, his heel bouncing against the floor:

Miss you (too desperate)  
Cool have a safe flight (too fake casual)  
Punch Garrett for me when you get there (not funny)  
You forgot your lube

The last one won out. It was crude and sweet at the same time, Mike hoped. That little bottle of lube was sacred, in his view. 

Jay didn’t respond for six hours. Mike was at the shop when he felt his phone buzz against his thigh. Rich watched with pity as Mike practically tore the pocket off his shorts in his scramble to see if this was a text from Jay. By then, Rich had heard all about Mike’s evenings with Jay, latest developments included, only the lewd details withheld. 

“Did he finally get back to you?” Rich asked, sounding very put-upon but tolerant at the same time, in his way.

“Yeah,” Mike said, staring at his phone.

“What’s he got to say for himself.”

“Whoops.”

“Whoops, seriously?”

“Yeah.” Mike groaned and threw his phone onto the counter in front of them. “He’s not-- I told you about the note.”

“You read it to me twice.”

“So, I think he used all his words up for the month. But the thing is, I don’t even know if he’s coming back.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Rich said, waving his hand through the air. “He’ll be back. You’re soulmates!”

“What’s that mean, exactly?”

“Why do you think guardian angels are immortal?”

“Uhh, I don’t know? What’s that got to do with it?”

“I told you! You never listen.” Rich sighed and shook his head, crossing his arms over his lap. “Time isn’t real. The fact that you experience it as a finite quantity is a mistake on the processing level. Like a glitch. People cycle through a lot of ‘lives.’” Rich lifted his fingers in scare quotes. “Most of ‘em just involve fucking around pointlessly. Including yours. Also Jay’s. But you two are always fucking around together, over and over, and that’s pretty rare. I’m not supposed to tell you this stuff, but, eh. I don’t work for the guardians anymore, so what do I care?”

Mike stared at Rich, frowning. Rich rolled his eyes at Mike’s confusion.

“Forget it,” Rich said. “The simple explanation is, you’re special. The two of you. It’s like a curse, he’s not wrong about that. But, you know, it’s a soft curse. You can live inside that kind of curse for an eternity. I don’t know how else to tell you that him being in another city is like, the smallest deal ever. You’re alive at the same time, on the same planet! You’ve been less lucky in the past. And you were not a barrel of laughs to guard in those circumstances, let me tell you. Anyway, I’m hungry. You want some ramen? I mean the good kind, from Postmates.”

Mike spent the rest of the day in a kind of cloud of disorientation that made him feel like he was hovering off the ground, somewhere between heartbroken and hopeful, obsessively refreshing Jay’s Instagram and sneaking into the back room to reread the note he’d left. By the time their shift ended he felt so preemptively lonely that he almost begged Rich to ditch his movie date just to keep him company. 

Instead of going directly back to his apartment to cradle that lube bottle against his cheek while crying, or other horrors as yet to be imagined, he crossed the street and went into what had once been his usual bar. His visits had become rare, because he was still kind of scared of the place after all that had gone down there. He was anxious as he approached, and annoyed to find Plinkett sitting at the bar, watching the Bears game. 

“These fucking clowns!” Plinkett said, shouting this at the wall-mounted television. “They can’t even lose when I need ‘em to!”

Plinkett noticed Mike looming over him and turned to cringe a little, sneering. 

“You don’t have your prick friend with you, do you?” Plinkett asked, craning his neck to check the door for Rich. “That asshole mighta given me brain damage, my memory ain’t so good lately. I could sue!” 

“Are you still immortal,” Mike asked, deadpan. 

“Huh? Of course I am, Xandu gave me--”

“Then I guess I can’t kill you.” 

Mike moved away and took a seat, leaving a few barstools between them. 

“That’s right you can’t!” Plinkett said after an uncertain pause, waving his cane at Mike. “So keep your distance! Have some respect for your immortal elders.” 

Mike drank and tried to ignore him. Every few minutes or so he’d nervously glance at the door, afraid that Lucy would swan in with her knowing smirk and screw up his life again. Though really, it was Mike who’d done that. She’d just pounced on the opportunity to allow him to. 

“How about your friend?” Mike shouted down at Plinkett when he was a little drunk, or maybe more than a little. “Satan,” Mike said when Plinkett snarled at him. “Your buddy, what’s she up to, huh?”

“Hell if I know, she’s mad at me. It’s almost Halloween and I’m barred from all the best demon orgies of the season! I guess I messed up her whole plan to kidnap you and my ex.”

“Don’t call Jay your ex! That was really her whole plan, to trap us and make us watch bad movies together?”

“She’s got a lot of weird fetishes, what can I say. Now shut your trap, the game’s back on.”

Mike paid for his beers and left, feeling a sense of anticlimax that he knew he should be grateful for. He pulled out his phone and wondered what Jay was doing, why he wasn’t constantly texting Mike with updates. As if he ever would, even they were fucking married or something. Mike laughed at the idea and walked home, pulling up his collar against the cold. It was mid-October, and the lingering heat of the overlong summer had finally died off.

Alone in bed, he used a tiny amount of Jay’s lube to jerk himself off to the memory of Jay sitting on his face just a few nights before, fell asleep after coming and woke from bad dreams about Hell around the usual time. 

The dreams had become familiar: he’d be chained to the Nerd Crew desk at the beginning, and then battered into a pathetic heap and watching some other version of himself make off with Jay. The part that often woke him was the consuming feeling of dreadful certainty that Jay was about to be demolished by demons and Mike wouldn’t get to him in time, that all Mike would find when he got there was what was left of Jay when those things were done with him. 

He sent Jay a text, figuring he’d still be awake. It was just after midnight on the west coast. 

_dreaming of you_

_uh oh_ Jay sent back, almost an hour later, and then, _sorry, working late_

“Sorry for what?” Mike said to his phone, then he threw it across the room and tried to sleep again.

As the days passed and the first snow of the season threatened to arrive as early as Halloween, Mike began to understand that the note Jay had left for him wasn’t a love letter so much as a kiss-off. Jay had left without a real goodbye because he didn’t want to deal with Mike’s anguish or admit outright that he wasn’t coming back, because he was happy in L.A., doing real work and spending his time with fucking Garrett, who had saved him. Sometimes Mike sent texts, and Jay always responded, but they weren’t really talking about anything, and increasingly Mike felt like he was being strung along by someone who wanted him, sure, but couldn’t really handle him and knew it, so had run away.

Jay’s Instagram had no updates until the day after Halloween, when suddenly there was a picture of him and four hot people Mike didn’t know, all of them wearing coordinated costumes from some obscure 80s apocalypse movie that Jay had tried to get Mike to watch years ago. There were two guys in elaborate horror makeup up as grotesque zombies, a girl with big blond hair in a cutesy cheerleader outfit, another girl with 80s hair holding a fake machine gun, and Jay, who was wearing a cowboy hat and a leather vest over a flannel shirt, looking extremely gay even with the girl who had the gun draped all over him. They all looked fucking cool, and like a caliber of people Jay would never get to hang out with in Milwaukee. 

Jay’s only note on the picture was “makeup by @staceeeK”

Mike stared at the picture, feeling dumped. Who was Staceee K? A girl, a guy? Someone Jay was fucking? Or had he gotten fucking out of his system in those two weeks with Mike? He’d always kind of acted like sex was beneath him. Fucking Jay. What was with that cowboy hat? Was that even in the movie?

Mike tried to track the movie down and watch it that night, miserable and obsessed, but it wasn’t on any of the streaming shit he had access to, not even for a price. He watched old previews for it on YouTube and drank a six pack, drunken longing pulsing through him until he felt like the movie he now couldn’t find to watch was some fragment of Jay’s heart that he’d been offered and rejected, a crucial piece of Jay that he would never get close to again.

 _you didn’t even text me on Halloween_ , Mike typed into his phone, and then deleted it. This wasn’t the way. Maybe he should make an Instagram and start posting all the great shit he was doing in Milwaukee, like eating real cheese curds and playing darts with Rich during their shifts. They were both getting really good. Maybe Mike would join a league. 

He went to bed feeling like shit, something he’d become reaccustomed to since Jay left town again. 

In the morning, he had a text from Jay, but it was just one of his stupid pictures, this one featuring a very old man who looked like and might have been Leo Fong. 

_is that him??_ was the only accompanying text.

 _go ask him_ , Mike sent back. 

_too late_ was Jay’s reply, and it stung, because Mike felt that way about everything to do with him and Jay.

He remembered his hard lesson learned in Hell, and on Earth, too: don’t be a coward. But he also didn’t want to pressure Jay into placating his stupid feelings. Jay deserved to fly high and far away from Mike, and clearly he was enjoying it.

“Should I just go out there?” Mike said when it was a few days from his forty-first birthday and he had no word from Jay about whether or not they’d ever see each other again. “Is that what he wants, do you think? Is he waiting for me, again?”

“If you love something, set it free,” Rich said. They were at the shop, and Rich had been dozing off in his chair before Mike blurted this, no longer able to hold it in. “If it loves you back it will come back to you in time.”

“I don’t have time!” Mike said, though he did. He had nothing but time, felt like, especially during the long shifts when Rich got bored with talking in a way that Jay never had. 

“Cheer up!” Rich said. “I got something special planned for your birthday.” 

Mike grunted. The year before, Jay had made him a rum cake. They’d gotten stoned together, marathoned bad legal thriller movies from the 90s for some reason, and ate the whole cake. 

“I miss him,” Mike said, staring at his stupid phone, which had begun to feel like a cruel automaton Jay had left in place of his body and soul. 

“So tell him that,” Rich said, shrugging.

“He knows. It will just make him feel guilty. I don’t want to harass him.” 

“Sure you do,” Rich said, and he snickered when Mike glared at him.

Mike couldn’t shake the sense that he was missing his last chance to win Jay back with some dramatic gesture, but this felt like only half of the lesson he’d learned during his ordeal. The other was the shit Rich was spouting, which wasn’t untrue: that he had promised to let go, and had done the hard work of all those I love yous. Jay had heard them and knew that he could come back and suffer thousands more of them for the rest of his life, and if Mike pursued him he’d just be breaking his promise. This felt correct and true, which made every day that Jay didn’t bother to come home and get what Mike had to give him that much more painful.

On Mike’s birthday, Jay texted. 

_Happy birthday_  
_got anything planned?_

Mike stared at these impersonal messages, feeling like he was reading a death sentence. He hadn’t let himself think about it before then, but his birthday had become a kind of deadline in his mind: if Jay didn’t come back by then, or show up for Mike in some other way, he was truly gone. 

And now the day had come, and Jay hadn’t.

 _thanks_ , Mike replied, fighting back tears. _me and rich are gonna tear up the town_

 _does rich party_ , Jay replied, which was probably some L.A. code for drugs or orgies or something else Mike was not cool enough to know about.

 _like a beast_ , he replied.

Rich’s big surprise for Mike’s birthday was a trip to the scummiest strip club in town. Rich found this hilarious. Mike tried to get into it, but he couldn’t even get properly drunk. A dense wall of sadness had been erected within him, keeping the booze from soothing the bad thoughts away. 

“We can leave and go play darts if you want,” Rich offered when he saw Mike was depressed. 

“It’s okay,” Mike said. “This is great. You’re a good friend, Rich.” 

“I just thought-- Aw, geez, Mike. I thought it’d take your mind off, you know, things.” 

“It is, it’s working.” 

Rich rolled his eyes at this blatant lie. “We can switch to a gay one?” he said. “I don’t mind.” 

“Nah,” Mike said, because male strippers would just make him miss Jay more. “This works.” 

They stayed for another hour. Rich chatted with the bartender about metaphysics and laughed so loudly that several dancers paused on stage to glare at him. Mike managed to get blackout drunk and woke up home in bed, alone. 

**


	9. Chapter 9

Mike’s head felt like it was made out of stones that slid painfully against each other every time he shifted in bed. His jaw hurt. His mouth tasted disgusting.

Someone was knocking on his apartment door. 

“I’m fine!” Mike shouted, assuming it was Rich, come to check that he’d survived the night.

But then again: Rich had a key.

Mike was too wrecked to get his hopes up. He went to the door with a scowl on his face, wearing the rumpled clothes he’d had on the day before and expecting a salesperson or a neighbor who would complain about sex noises that weren’t actually his fault this time.

He pulled the door open, ready to shout whoever dared disturb his misery away.

It was Jay, so Mike’s mouth just hung open. He blinked a few times and Jay was still there, wearing a shirt with Kurt Russell on it and a black jacket with a little enamel pin of Jason’s mask with a knife stuck through one of the eyeholes. Mike stared at the pin, trying to make sense of this, then looked up into Jay’s eyes. Jay looked concerned, also sweet, tired, maybe scared. 

“What’d you guys do last night?” he asked. 

“What didn’t we do?” Mike said, smart-assing on autopilot while he waited for things to make sense. “Why are you-- What’s happening?”

“I have a whole birthday thing planned for you,” Jay said. “I know it was yesterday, but I guess Rich gets first dibs. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Are you okay? Do you need, uh. Coffee?”

“What?” Mike said, loudly, pinching his eyes shut. Jay was still there when he opened them, now looking distressed. “What, just, when-- When did you get into town?”

“This morning, I drove.” 

“From L.A.?” 

“No! Look, it’s part of the surprise, okay? Just get dressed, uh. Want me to wait out here?”

“Are you, like, intentionally trying to drive me out of my mind? I mean, no one could blame you--”

“I’m giving you a birthday present! Shut up and get ready, I have a schedule to keep.”

Jay shoved Mike into the apartment and wandered around pretending to be interested in various things while Mike changed into clean clothes. Mike’s head was still pounding. He brushed his teeth and tried to get a grip on himself. So far he couldn’t even accept that Jay was actually present. He kept poking his head out of the bathroom while getting ready, double-checking. 

“Is this appropriate attire for your agenda?” Mike asked after he’d shaved and made himself as presentable as possible with his hangover still battering him. 

Jay walked over and took in the hooded sweatshirt Mike had on over a t-shirt and jeans. It was pretty much his entire wardrobe, this exact look. Jay nodded and smiled. He was keeping his distance, Mike noticed. This was the first time Jay had turned up at his apartment post-Hell and not dragged him directly to the bed. 

They stopped for to-go cups of coffee on the way out of town, and Mike sipped from his in the passenger seat of Jay’s car, lingering in a nowhere place between utter misery and piercing joy, because Jay was here, wearing stupid sunglasses and that fucking enamel pin, but also for how long, and where were they going? They were on the highway for the time being, headed south on I-43. Mike had a lot of questions and also a lump in his throat. He was afraid to speak. Jay had music playing, some carefully curated playlist of synthwave nonsense.

“How’s Rich doing?” Jay asked.

Mike wanted to laugh, because Jay sounded nervous, as if they were people who needed to make small talk on a car trip and not two halves of the same demented creature. 

“Rich is great,” Mike said. “He likes video games a lot, go figure.” 

“Mhmm.”

“How’s Garrett?” Mike asked, mumbling this out resentfully.

“Okay, I think. I haven’t seen him in a few weeks.”

Interesting, Mike thought, looking out the window.

Mike fell asleep in the passenger seat, but only for ten minutes or so. He felt marginally better when he woke up, then cured almost instantly at the sight of the Beef-A-Roo parking lot that Jay was pulling into.

“Oh holy fuck,” Mike said, already getting misty-eyed, because this was the one where they met. 

“Perfect hangover food, right?” Jay said. He was blushing, shifty-eyed. “Oh my god,” he said when he saw Mike’s face. “I forbid you to cry.”

“You can’t bring me here and then ask that of me!”

But getting this order from Jay actually worked. Mike was dry-eyed when they ordered, and when they sat down in the same booth where they’d first faced each other down with the copy of _Quadead_ between them, as if that was ever why they’d really wanted to meet. Mike had sensed something about Jay even before that, especially when they’d talked on the phone. He wanted to say so now, but was busy stuffing his face with a burger and fries that tasted like the greatest things he’d ever eaten, the sugar and caffeine from the Coke washing the last of his hangover away. 

“What’d you think of me that day?” Mike asked when they were finished eating and just staring at each other, Mike waiting for Jay to make his next move and Jay seemingly content in what Mike wanted to view as a swoon, leaning toward Mike with his elbows on the table. “I mean, aside from wanting me to aggressively bone you.”

Jay grinned at that, and Mike thought of the first time Jay had ever smiled at him, right here, across this table.

“I thought you were pushy,” Jay said. “I guess in a way that I wanted to be pushed.” 

“Yeah, that’s us, all right.” 

“What’d you think of me?” Jay asked. He looked a little nervous about the answer. 

“I wanted to get under your skin,” Mike said. 

“Congratulations, then,” Jay said. He stood, ducking his gaze away from Mike’s. “C’mon, on to the next thing.”

“Are we gonna fuck in the woods?” Mike asked, hopping up to follow him. 

“Shh!” Jay said, glaring. There were a few other people in the place, all of them old and farmer-looking. “No!”

“Okay, sorry, I just can’t stop thinking about you-- Thinking about that, back then.”

Jay grunted and ushered Mike out the door. Mike turned back to look at the booth they’d just left one last time. He felt a little bit like he had when Rich took him on a tour of space and time to find the departure point for where things had gone wrong between him and Jay, like Jay was taking him on a tour of his own. Maybe they were reversing the damage this way. If anyone could work that kind of miracle, it was Jay.

“Want me to drive?” Mike asked. “For old times’ sake?”

“You don’t even know where we’re going,” Jay said, but he was smiling a little. 

Jay drove, and Mike tried not to bounce his heel against the floor of the car too much. The synthwave music was a little gentler now, maybe even romantic at moments. Mike wondered if Jay had planned that, or if he was imagining things. Everything about this was romantic to Mike: the long drive away from the city, the greasy burgers, even his now-faded hangover. 

Within five minutes they were out in deeper country, farmland in every direction, and Mike was pretty sure where they were headed. He might have even remembered the way if Jay had let him drive, because after that first meetup he drove straight to Jay’s house most of the time. Jay didn’t have a car back then, just that bike. Mike had to bite his tongue to keep from making some kind of embarrassing noise of wistful appreciation when they pulled up to the old farmhouse where Jay had grown up. Jay didn’t want Mike or anyone else to think of him as a hick, so he claimed to be from ‘the city,’ which was fucking Madison, where he’d been born. But Jay had lived in this house since he was nine years old and until his bitter attempt at film school, when he moved to Milwaukee. When Mike moved there, too, it was only because Jay was there.

“My mom and Pete are in Florida for the winter,” Jay said, staring up at the house while Mike stared at him. “I’ve been--” He shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment before looking over at Mike. “Never mind. Come in and watch a movie with me, okay?”

“Okay,” Mike said, his voice barely working. What was this? Something really fucking good.

He’d thought the same thing back then, the first time he followed Jay inside.

The house smelled the same as it had back then, which nearly knocked Mike on his ass. It was like old hearth smoke and some spice not quite as sweet as cinnamon, maybe cloves. They took their shoes off in the foyer and hung up their coats. It was a clear but cold day, snow forecast for that weekend. Jay’s house had always been drafty, having been built in the late 1800s. They had researched its history once, when Mike was briefly convinced that it was haunted. 

“Have you still got ghosts in the attic?” Mike asked, following Jay upstairs to his room. 

“No,” Jay said. “Garrett confirmed for me they don’t exist, by the way.”

“What the hell does he know! Not everything, even if he thinks so. Rich told me all kinds of cool shit about time and the universe, by the way. Maybe I’ll fill you in later.”

Jay snickered and turned back to Mike at the top of the stairs. Mike loomed into his space, hoping for a kiss. Jay looked down at his feet like he was suddenly shy, and when he walked into his room Mike followed, realizing that this was like a recreation of their first day together in more ways than one. His heart started to race, and he fully committed to playing it out the way Jay seemed to want him to, as if they hadn’t even touched each other yet. 

Mike tried to look at Jay’s room as if seeing it for the first time. Jay’s mother had left it just as he had when he moved out for real in 2001: a peeling Pink Flamingos poster on the wall beside a framed Blue Oyster Cult one that had belonged to Jay’s dad, a Star Wars calender open to December 2000, a wall clock with a dying battery that hadn’t quite stopped and was measuring the same second over and over. Jay’s old desk was cluttered with notebooks that held drafts of scripts and drawings and whatever else. He’d never let Mike look at them. 

The sheets on his bed were the same blue and white checked jersey ones Mike remembered from his first time in here, with a massive navy comforter folded near the footboard. The childlike furnishings were the same: blocky wooden dresser, cubby hole compartments over the desk, and a multi-colored woven rug that covered much of the hardwood floor. Mike remembered noticing that, while the colors were muted and threaded together without clear delineation, the rug was essentially rainbow-colored. Sitting on it that first day, he’d wondered if that meant anything about whether or not he would eventually kiss the boy who owned it. Now he realized Jay’s mother had probably picked it out. He’d just been looking for any tiny hint of hope, already. 

Jay’s video and editing equipment was gone for the most part, having either migrated to his apartment in Milwaukee back in the day or been sold off over the years, for upgrades or because he’d given up on having use for some of those things. The old TV was still there, on a short bookcase across from the bed, and the bookcase housed a surprising amount of VHS tapes.

“Thought you would have brought the collection with you when you moved out,” Mike said, standing in the middle of the room and trying not to sound choked up.

“Never had enough room,” Jay said. He squatted down to peruse the selection of tapes. “I only brought the essentials with me when I moved out. There’s some good stuff still here, though, some obscure-- Ah, yes, okay. I was hoping this was here.” 

He pulled out a tape and smiled down at it, standing. 

“I think you’ll like this,” Jay said. “ _The Tower_. It’s about people escaping from an evil building that wants to kill them. Your kind of thing, I think. And it’s really fucking weird.”

“Should I shut the door?” Mike asked when Jay looked up at him, his expression as sweet and hopeful as it had been back then, when he’d hoped Mike would appreciate his taste in rare movies and that Mike would therefore respect him. Just standing in his old room made Jay look a little bit younger, to Mike. 

“Oh, sure,” Jay said, when he seemed to comprehend what Mike was asking. “I mean, we’re the only ones here, but. Yeah.”

Jay slid the tape into his old VCR, and Mike turned to close the door. He felt keyed up and anxious, like he was about to try to fool around with a guy for the first time. These surroundings were restoring him to his younger self, too. He supposed that was the idea, and took his usual spot on the floor with his back to Jay’s dresser while Jay sat on the bed.

“What are you doing?” Jay asked, laughing. “C’mere.” He patted the bed when Mike peeked at him over the high edge of the double-stacked mattress. “There’s room for you up here,” he said, red-faced again.

Jay scooted toward the wall as Mike arranged himself as best he could on the other side of the bed, feeling huge. It was a queen-sized bed, and they fit comfortably, but Mike couldn’t help thinking about how much more space would have existed between them if he’d sat here back then. Jay had been skinnier, too. Now their arms would touch if Mike uncrossed his. He kept them tight over his chest for the time being. Jay sat cross-legged at first, using an ancient remote to adjust the volume, then settled back onto the pillows propped up against the headboard when the movie had started. 

Mike tried to pay attention to the movie. He always had trouble doing so when Jay was beside him, always wanted to look over and see what Jay was reacting to, or just to look at him. There was a window over Jay’s bed, the sill hovering just above the mattress, and whenever Mike was tempted to turn and stare at Jay, or kiss his neck, or breathe in the smell of him in a too-obvious way, he made himself look out the window. The sky had been clear earlier, but now was streaked with some thin clouds. He could hear geese going by overhead, honking their heads off, but couldn’t see them.

“Remember that time when we heard turkeys?” Mike asked. They’d been watching-- well, he couldn’t remember, something, and during a tense moment in the film, some wild turkeys started up with the most absurd, brazen warbling as they crossed the backyard toward the woods. It had been the funniest fucking thing, for some reason, maybe the hardest they’d ever laughed together.

“Yeah,” Jay said. He was smiling a little but still looking at the TV when Mike dared a glance over at him. “Are you even paying attention to this?” Jay asked, moving his pinkie finger over just enough to give Mike’s hip an admonishing tap. 

Mike swallowed heavily, struck by that: emotionally, and in a way that made his dick twitch. Jay had his arm stretched out between them, his fingers spread out on the mattress while his other hand rested on his belly. Mike wanted to devour him: heart, bones, everything. He would have made such an ass of himself back then, if they’d stretched out together on the bed like this. Jay would have thought Mike was a lunatic, or a sex pervert who pounced on anyone he was left alone with for five minutes. 

“I’m paying attention,” Mike said, lying. 

He stretched his arm out alongside Jay’s. Their shoulders were close but not quite touching on the pillows they leaned against. Mike’s bicep pressed against Jay’s when he relaxed as much as he could.

He could hear Jay’s breath stutter like this really was some kind of first time for either of them, in any respect. Mike felt that way, too, wasn’t just pretending. 

Time isn’t real, he thought, his eyes widening as he watched the TV. 

Only that wasn’t what Rich had said, exactly. Just that it was a mistake. But maybe that meant it was something that could be fixed, like this, on a case by case basis.

They both kept their eyes on the TV. The computer interface effects in the movie were laughable; apparently it had been produced for Canadian television. Jay kept giggling at the worst shots and dialogue, his shoulder shifting a little closer to Mike’s every time he did. He didn’t move his hand away when Mike brushed their knuckles together, just barely.

Mike could hear himself breathing. He could hear Jay’s breath, too, coming in soft but increasingly rapid huffs. He pushed his fingers in against Jay’s, and Jay spread his so they could thread together lazily. On the screen, a very boring conversation between two men in a poorly lit office continued. 

Jay shifted until their shoulders were pressed together, and moved his arm so that it was touching the full length of Mike’s. He twisted his wrist so Mike could hold his hand more completely. Mike rubbed his thumb over Jay’s knuckles, licked his lips and stared at the TV, trying to make note of what was happening on it. He would only stay calm enough to not ruin this if he paid some attention to this movie Jay wanted him to see, this thing Jay thought he would like. The men in the office were still talking, bad actors exchanging worse dialogue. 

“Eugh,” Mike said, when one of these guys said to the other that a teenaged girl character ‘likes older men.’

Jay laughed in agreement and tightened his grip on Mike’s hand.

“Everyone in this is the worst,” Jay said. “On every level. It’s great. Just wait till the bikini scene.”

“Oh god,” Mike said, shifting over so that their hips were touching, too, like he needed Jay’s body heat to get him through this trial. 

Jay couldn’t stop laughing at everything, which usually meant he was happy, also nervous. Mike laughed, too, low in his chest, then hard enough that the reverberations shook the whole bed. Jay rolled toward Mike and clutched at his arm, sliding his warm little hand around the meat of Mike’s bicep. Mike looked over at him, grinning, his eyes wet and blurry at the corners from how hard he’d been laughing. He couldn’t wait any longer. It had become physically impossible. He lunged for a kiss. 

Jay’s lips were salty from that meal they’d eaten, and his tongue was sweet from the soda. He was still laughing a little while he kissed Mike back, sliding his leg across Mike’s lap slowly, like Mike might not notice if he employed enough stealth. 

Mike wanted to say so many things: I cannot live without you, don’t do this to me if you’re just going to leave again, do you have lube? He stuffed it all down and just kept kissing Jay, rolling fully against him and settling a tentative hand on Jay’s hip to get him even closer. The movie continued in its inanity, the context-free audio making them crack up at moments before they resumed kissing. It was lazy and frenzied at the same time, like this really was their last chance to get it right, but there was also no time limit. Mike rubbed his legs against Jay’s like the sensation was wholly new to him, because in this bed it felt that way. He felt like the luckiest boy in the world, though he was very far from being a boy. There was just something about knowing nobody else would ever have it this good that made him feel like a kid again.

Jay was squirming against him like he was definitely hard. Mike was, too, but wasn’t in a hurry to do anything about it, despite having gone a near month without sex thanks to Jay’s departure. He dragged his fingers through Jay’s hair and they both moaned.

“Sorry,” Mike said, pulling back to look at the screen while Jay sucked at his neck. “I, ah, yeah-- Should be watching, sorry.”

Jay snorted and bit him, more softly than he ever had before. Miked pulled back to smirk at him. If he was actually young again he would have said something cheesy about how Jay’s eyes fucking sparkled when he was happiest, like now. He knew Jay didn’t want to hear it, so he rubbed his hand over Jay’s t-shirt instead, dragging his thumb against Jay’s stiff nipples one at a time. Jay sighed and swooned in a little closer, pressing his chest out for more.

“I like your Kurt Russell shirt,” Mike said while he teased Jay’s nipples through the fabric.

“It’s not Kurt Russell.” Jay blinked his eyes open and refocused on Mike’s gaze with some effort. “It’s, he’s-- Snake, from, _nnh_. Escape from L.A. I mean-- New York!”

Mike grinned, his heart pounding. Jay got very red. 

“I see,” Mike said, and he kissed Jay again, to rescue him from that slip up. Escape from L.A., well, hmm.

Jay moaned into the kiss like he couldn’t believe himself and pushed his hand up under Mike’s shirt, squeezing his chub in a way that felt kind of cruel at first. Mike pulled back a little and saw Jay staring up at him sweetly, like he’d just missed this, was all. He remembered what he’d said to Jay, and meant: that he loved every inch of him, every gnaw mark on his fingernails, all of it. 

“What do you want?” Mike asked, soft and non-threatening in the way he would ask this of a virgin, his hand sneaking up under Jay’s shirt to rest on his bare skin, just over the waistband of his briefs. 

“I don’t know,” Jay said. “Anything, whatever you want.” 

“Oh, c’mon. You’d hate that.”

“No, I wouldn’t-- Wait, what? What would I hate?”

“Me being all soft and slow with you,” Mike said, already shifting Jay onto his back. “Taking care of you, telling you-- I don’t know, that you’re perfect, that I can’t believe you’re real. You want me to drag you into the woods, I know. You don’t want what I want.” 

“That’s--” Jay frowned and looked like he was running some calculations, trying to figure which game they were playing now. “That’s not, ah. That’s not entirely true.”

“What’s not, Jay.”

“That I don’t-- That you can’t, like. Do that, like you said. You can.”

Mike had been through Hell and would never forget it. Now he would never forget this either, probably the only paradise he’d ever know: Jay saying Mike could fuck him gently and staring up at him with soft green doe eyes, not even playing a game anymore. It almost felt dirty, in an ironic way, getting Jay to admit he wanted that, too. Mike was throbbing and leaking into his boxers, giving Jay suffocating kisses, dragging his hand up under the Snake shirt to tweak Jay’s nipples and make him whine. 

“Baby,” Mike said, just to see Jay wrinkle his nose, “Gonna fuck you so right.”

“Ew,” Jay said, and then he was snickering against Mike’s mouth, kissing him in little stabs of his tongue between fits of convulsive laughter.

Unbuttoning Jay’s jeans felt newly illicit while his childhood bedroom’s posters watched over the action. Jay was also staring down at Mike’s hand while he did it, his t-shirt pushed up to the center of his chest but still in place. Mike got Jay’s zipper halfway down and paused to cup his erection through his jeans, squeezing until Jay bucked into it and bit his lip, eyes sliding shut. On the TV screen, characters were talking in an elevator. So far in the movie, nothing had really happened. 

Jay blinked his eyes open and locked his gaze on Mike’s when Mike reached into his jeans to stroke his dick: reverently, as if Jay would have to be coaxed into wanting more, as if he wasn’t already leaking and shaking, his hips twitching in way that seemed involuntary as he rubbed himself against Mike’s hand. Mike took his time, just teasing his thumb over the sticky slit and kissing Jay on the mouth, drinking in his increasingly desperate little noises. 

“You too,” Jay muttered, reaching for the button on Mike’s jeans. 

Mike supposed that was fair, that for every inch of Jay that got exposed here he should reveal more of himself. It was rare that they’d had sex in daylight, and they’d never done it with a movie playing in the background. He felt sort of awkward, just taking out his dick and holding it between them like: do what you will with me. 

“Fuck,” Jay said, grabbing Mike’s cock in one greedy little hand. Mike had to swallow down a giddy laugh that came back up as a groan when Jay stroked him. “You’re so big,” Jay said, squeezing. “I mean, I knew, but. I guess I’ve never seen you, uh. In full light.”

“Hah,” Mike said, and he crashed his mouth against Jay’s again. They both moaned into the kiss when Jay shimmied forward to rub his cock against Mike’s, and both sputtered with laughter when the music in the movie shifted to something that sounded like a cheap softcore porn soundtrack.

“Oh no, it’s the pool scene,” Jay said, glancing at the TV.

“You want to watch it?” Mike asked, pushing his hand down into the back of Jay’s pants to palm his ass through his briefs. “This gets you going?”

“No,” Jay said, and he sat up to pull his shirt off. “You wouldn’t be able to handle what gets me going.” He smirked at the look on Mike’s face.

“We’ll see about that,” Mike said. He dragged his knuckles over Jay’s belly and grinned when he shivered. “You didn’t shave,” Mike said, rubbing his fingertips through the blond fuzz there. “Guess this still isn’t a date.”

“You said you like it,” Jay muttered, avoiding Mike’s eyes while admitting that he remembered this, cared, and had groomed accordingly. He leaned across Mike to get something out of the drawer on his little bedside table. “I have this,” he said, showing him the bottle.

“Antique lube?” Mike said, examining it. “Jay’s vintage teenage lube? That’s perfect.” 

Jay flopped onto the bed again and rolled toward Mike, looking like he wanted Mike to take over, now that he had the lube. 

“Are you cold?” Mike asked, rubbing his hand over the goosebumps that had risen on Jay’s arm. 

“A little,” Jay said. “This window-- I like it, but a lot of cold comes through.”

Mike shoved his pants down and grabbed for the comforter at the end of the bed in the same motion, pulling it up over Jay while he got rid of his pants, too. They both stripped their socks and underwear off beneath the comforter, as if for a semblance of privacy, as if they hadn’t seen every inch of each other by moonlight in those first few weeks of October. This felt different, because of the location and the time of day, and also because Jay seemed to be working some time travel spell that Mike was all in for. 

“C’mere,” Mike said, pulling Jay into his arms under the comforter. He thought of saying something about warming Jay up, but maybe that would bring up bad memories, so he just did it without comment, holding him close and kissing him for a while, until the goosebumps on his arm weren’t so prominent. 

“Why’s this still on?” Jay asked, pulling at the hem of Mike’s shirt. 

“Maybe I’m shy about being naked in your bedroom,” Mike said, kind of sincerely.

“Well, you’re under the blanket. C’mon, I want to feel, ah. You know what I like.”

Mike grinned; this was true, he did know. Even when Jay was resisting post-sex cuddling with every inch of his life, he would have moments where he just collapsed onto Mike’s chest and seemed to revel in that skin to skin feeling. Mike tugged his shirt off and let Jay curl up against him and squirm happily, absorbing Mike’s body heat. Jay looked up curiously when Mike popped open the lube.

“You can stay there while I work you open,” Mike said, meaning pressed against his chest. “If you want.” 

“Oh um. Yeah.” Jay flexed his legs against Mike’s under the comforter, his breath coming a little quicker just for the mention of this. 

They hadn’t really done this much at all. Jay usually just shoved himself down onto Mike or yanked him forward and told him to get on with it. He liked to show Mike how tough he was, and was also impatient. Mike wanted to draw this out for as long as he could, which meant he couldn’t get right into Jay for only the second time ever with no condom between them. He got his fingers slicked and shifted Jay against him a little more closely when he heard Jay’s breath hitch for the feeling of Mike reaching down between his ass cheeks. Mike’s other hand was spread open over Jay’s, which tensed up on Mike’s chest at the first wet brush of his fingers down there.

“Ah,” Jay said, pressing his ass back and hiding his face against Mike’s shoulder. 

“I’ll be careful,” Mike promised.

Jay snorted like that was hilarious but didn’t tell him not to be, or that he didn’t need that right now. On the TV, the characters in the movie were endlessly dithering. No one had even been attacked by the evil building yet.

Mike buried his face in Jay’s hair while he worked one finger into him. It had been a while, and he felt as tight as he had when he first rammed himself down onto Mike’s dick and rode him in the moonlight. Mike suspected that Jay hadn’t been with anyone else since he left Milwaukee, but it didn’t really matter. For the first time in months, Mike wasn’t worried about the future. The only thing that existed was this moment: Jay’s breath hot and humid against his skin, his ass clenching up in greedy little pulses around his finger, and his hand closing into a fist to pull just lightly on Mike’s chest hair. 

“That feel okay?” Mike asked, and he swiped over Jay’s prostate when he opened his mouth to answer.

“ _Mike_ ,” Jay said, slamming his hips back. His teeth scraped Mike’s skin and his breath came faster. “Nnn, yeah--” 

“That’s a good spot, huh? The best one? Right here?”

“Fuh, _fuck_ \-- yeah, god--”

Mike teased him for a while before sliding a second finger in. They were both getting hot under the comforter, and the smell of Jay’s somehow delicate sex sweat was more like a drug for Mike than ever, here in this bed that held the scent of Jay’s whole awkward history, too, at least in Mike’s imagination if not literally. Mike groaned into Jay’s hair and fucked his fingers in a little more swiftly, imagining Jay doing this to himself for the first time in this bed, how blazing hot his face would have gotten and how he probably took a similarly hot shower afterward, dazed and confused. He’d definitely beat off to all manner of movie weirdness in this bed, facing that TV with the volume almost inaudibly low, and had probably thought about Mike while jerking off here at least once, after Mike started hanging out with him in here, so close to the bed yet so far.

“After that day we met,” Mike said, muttering this into Jay’s hair, unable to resist, “After I left here, did you think about me driving you into the woods? Like you were afraid of?” 

He knew afraid wasn’t the right word; Jay had trusted him right away. They’d fucking recognized each other, basically. But he would get hot for the idea that it had been a fear thing, Mike suspected.

“I thought--” Jay said, panting against Mike’s throat and trying to fuck himself more deeply on Mike’s fingers. Mike was holding him still now, his hand tight around Jay’s bicep, not letting him move much. “I thought about, I don’t know-- The way, ah. You looked at me.”

“Really?” Mike said, because that sounded way too sentimental, for Jay.

“You, yeah, you-- Looked at me like you were, mph. Doing me the favor of not touching me. Like you knew, ah. You knew you could-- Or, that we were both thinking about it-- I don’t know, I don’t know, _fuck_ , Mike--”

“Huh,” Mike said, and he slid his fingers out, moving down to meet Jay’s eyes. “I was sorta thinking that. Like, not in any mean-spirited way-- But I liked how jittery you were.”

“Yeah, no shit. You liked it so much you left me waiting for you to try something for eighteen years.” 

Mike was stunned by that, regretting that he’d spoken about this, but Jay was grinning when he looked up. He shrugged.

“I liked it, too,” Jay said, pulling Mike onto him, over him. “Stop giving yourself all the credit for being the fuckup. We both-- We’re weird-- It’s like a horror movie plot, you know? And I like that, about us.”

Mike considered responding to that, but didn’t trust himself to do it justice and just nodded, leaning in for a kiss. Jay gave him a little bite, smirked at his cautious look, then parted his lips for Mike’s tongue, sweet again.

Despite the talk of their apparently shared dark fantasies and the screaming that had started up on the TV, they had slow, almost sleepy sex in Jay’s old bed, pausing for long interludes to just kiss and lie there locked together, sweating terribly but unwilling to fling the comforter away. When they pulled apart to breathe Jay stared up at Mike in a way that made it hard for Mike to look away or even move. He let himself bask in the awestruck, unhurried expression on Jay’s face until Jay was laughing and asking him what the hell.

“You’re looking at me like you’re about to make a speech,” Jay said, squeezing his ass up around Mike’s dick as if to say: please don’t. 

You’re looking at me like you love me, Mike thought, but he just grinned and shrugged, because Jay wouldn’t want to be goaded into another confession, and it was all right there on his face anyway, and in the way he felt, hugged around Mike in every way possible, in this sacred place where nobody else would ever have him.

Mike came first, in a way that left him especially winded, because of the long build-up or because it was just such a staggering, massive relief, completely different from his sad beat-offs since Jay had left town again. Jay sort of yelped and Mike whispered apologies, thinking he’d shoved in too hard when he unloaded. Jay moaned and pinched his eyes shut, and when his shoulders shook Mike realized he was coming, too, probably because of that last hard thrust that Mike gave him when he couldn’t hold it back any longer. 

They were both way too hot to stay connected after coming, and Mike’s lips felt over-used from all the kissing, also in need of a break. The afternoon had dimmed a little, the clouds heavier overhead when Mike glanced up at the window. He was curled toward Jay under the comforter, just their foreheads pressed together while they both attempted to cool down, the melting-hot intensity of coming almost at the same time beginning to fade. Jay sighed and pet Mike’s shoulder tiredly. His eyes were closed when Mike peeked at him, and he was smiling in a way that made Mike think he probably didn’t realize he was doing it. 

“I used to make myself sick to my stomach in this bed,” Jay said, eyes still closed. “Like, worrying about-- You know, where my thoughts were going when I reached for my dick. I guess you could say, uh. For a long time, I’ve wanted to have some real cathartic gay sex in this room. So, thanks, for that.”

“Anytime,” Mike said, his throat closing up a little. He cleared his throat and gave Jay a kiss on the tip of his nose when he opened his eyes. “Would have done it back then, too,” he said, though maybe it was too painful to point this out. “Would have never left your side, after.”

“You did that part anyway,” Jay said. 

Mike moaned and laughed, embarrassed by how true that was. He moved down to press his face to Jay’s chest, where he smelled so good it made Mike dizzy. 

Neither of them made an excuse to leave the bed. Jay fell asleep first, and Mike fought to stay awake after he had, because this was the best moment of his life, too good to hold onto for as long as he wanted to, but also forever outside of time.

It was getting almost-dark outside when Mike twitched awake, late afternoon fading fast and a strong wind rattling against the window. Their sweat had cooled and Jay had rolled over to curve his back against Mike’s chest, still fast asleep. 

Mike badly needed to take a leak, which sucked. He wanted to stay there for all eternity, but he still had a body with needs to attend to. He reminded himself this wasn’t wholly a bad thing, kissed Jay’s cheek and rolled over to grope for his boxer shorts.

He put his t-shirt on, too, and crossed the hall to the bathroom. It looked very different from how Mike remembered it, which was a little startling. It had been renovated and all the fixtures were upgraded, the tacky old wallpaper and scuzzy bath mat replaced with smooth, dark tiles that made him feel like he’d stepped into a hotel. There were a conspicuous number of grooming products lined up on the counter, all of which seemed to belong to Jay: fancy shaving cream, brush and razor, three different kinds of things for hair, and oil-free sunscreen, like he’d forgotten that he was coming home to winter in Wisconsin. Mike eyed the sunscreen with annoyance, thinking of Jay’s life back in L.A. and wondering what the status of that life was, exactly. 

He lingered in the hallway to look at the framed pictures of Jay and his sisters as little kids, posing on the steps of the house’s wide front porch and at Disney World, also on a beach somewhere when they were all older and dressed up for some relative’s wedding. Jay was always at the center of the siblings, all three sisters clinging to some part of him. He always looked happy to be there in a genuine way, smiling with his teeth showing only in the oldest pictures. He had once confessed to Mike while drunk that, while none of them disliked their stepfather, it had always been important to him that his sisters loyally deferred to him like he was still in charge, since he was the oldest sibling and had considered himself an adult from about the age of eight onward, if not before.

Mike returned to the bedroom and was sorry he'd dawdled over the pictures when he saw Jay was awake, sitting up and looking confused, also a little concerned. 

“Sorry,” Mike said. He shut the door behind him and hurried back to the bed. “I was just across the hall.”

“I know,” Jay said, but he looked a little rattled. He shook his head when Mike sat on the bed and pulled him into his arms. “I just-- Had a dream or something.”

“Sorry, fuck, I should have been here.” Mike kissed Jay’s forehead, ready to promise they could sleep together every night from then on, there or anywhere. He was ready to move to fucking L.A. and suffer the people in that Halloween picture, anything. 

“It’s okay.” Jay laughed as if Mike was overreacting but also leaned into his arms and let Mike stroke his back. “What time is it?”

“Dunno,” Mike said, looking at the stuck clock on the wall, which was still ticking over and over toward that same minute, with the sad energy of a dying animal. “Doesn’t that drive you crazy?”

“What-- The clock? I couldn’t find batteries-- Do you have a shift tomorrow?”

“No,” Mike said, though he did. Rich would cover for him, and nothing was pulling away from here just yet, especially not fucking Lightning Fast. 

“‘Cause I bought something to make for dinner,” Jay said. He gave Mike a very serious, maybe still half-asleep look. “For your birthday.”

“Fuck yeah, sounds good.” Mike kissed him on the cheek and flopped down onto the bed again, not hungry enough to leave it yet. 

Jay sat there nodding vaguely, looking like he was having some kind of internal debate with himself. 

“We could watch something else,” Jay said. The TV had gone to a blue screen that glowed over the bed like their mutual guardian. “I guess _The Tower_ wasn’t as funny as I remembered.” 

“It was okay,” Mike said. He couldn’t stop touching the perfect curve of Jay’s bare back, where some goosebumps had risen again. “I mean, we were fucking. That’s hard to compete with, for any film. Especially a Canadian TV movie from the 80’s.” 

Jay slumped down into Mike’s arms and let him drag the comforter up so that it blocked the view of the TV while they faced each other. Mike didn’t really want to watch anything else. He’d happily just stare at Jay’s face until the last of the light drained out of the sky and they had no choice but to go downstairs and eat.

“You can tell me,” Mike said, his heart clenching up at the nervous looks Jay kept giving him. Jay had even lifted his thumbnail to bite at it before he remembered himself and tucked his hands under his cheek. “Anything, it’s okay.”

“Why do you think I want to tell you something?”

“Because you do. C’mon, it’s all right. I won’t get mad or anything.”

Jay sighed and scooted closer. The wind was still blowing hard outside, howling through the trees in the woods behind the house as the light continued to fade behind the thickening clouds. Overhead, the attic creaked in the way that had once made Mike suspect paranormal activity. 

“My mom’s not just in Florida for the winter,” Jay said. “She and Pete moved down there, to a retirement community place. She wants me to help her sell this place. It’s dumb, because my sister lives in Rockford, she could do it. But, you know, I guess-- She wanted to give me an excuse to come home.” 

Mike didn’t say anything, just stroked his thumb over Jay’s bicep and hoped Jay wouldn’t feel his pounding heartbeat shaking the whole mattress.

“She can tell I hate L.A.,” Jay said, mumbling this and avoiding Mike’s eyes. “Or anyway, she thinks that’s why I’m miserable there, like I’m some farm boy who can’t hack it in the big city or whatever. I mean, it’s okay, out there. It was cool to be working on an actual production, even though they treated me like a moron and all the other P.A.s were like, twenty years younger than me and went to fucking Harvard and shit. And they’d be like, ‘Wisconsin is a real plaaaace, no waaaay.’” 

“Fuck them,” Mike said, with sincere rage, and Jay laughed.

“Yeah. I don’t know. They think I’m quaint. And old. And weird, but not the right kind of weird. And, I-- I really didn’t want to tell you this, Mike, so don’t freak out.”

“I won’t!” He was already freaking out, internally, but was resolved to keep it from Jay, who deserved a sympathetic ear no matter what. 

“Ever since-- I mean, I’m sure I’ll get over it, but ever since we were in that nightmare place and I was stuck alone in that thing for however many days, which felt-- Longer, um. Than that. Ever since then I don’t like being around people that much. I mean, lots of people, all at once, like when I’m out in the city just getting from place to place. Even in Milwaukee, I don’t know. I get sorta panicked. And I never, never wanted to be the kind of boring hick who likes living in a place like this, specifically in this house, but. I dunno if it’s the Hell stuff, or just getting old, or that I just miss you so much that--” Jay groaned and met Mike’s eyes, held his gaze. “I like it here now. It feels better than there, much better. Like I can think straight and sleep through the night. I’ve been wanting to drag you out here since October. I just want to hide here with you until I feel normal again.”

“That’s literally the only thing in the world that I want,” Mike said, squeezing Jay’s arm probably too hard. 

“But you have a job, and an apartment--”

“Like that trash compares to being with you? I can get that kind of job anywhere.” 

“What about Rich!”

“He’s gonna marry that woman he’s dating, probably, and impregnate her with some kind of frightful half-angel children that will bring about the end of the world-- Who cares! He’s my friend. You’re my--” Mike made a helpless noise. There was no perfect word for it, except for maybe Jay’s name. “All I’ve been wanting since we got back is to go away somewhere and be with you,” he said instead.

“Me too,” Jay said, his voice cracking a little, eyes lowered. “I thought-- That can’t be right. That’s just pathetic. I really tried out there, and I did okay. I just didn’t-- Feel anything, except this screaming fucking nonstop need to tell you everything that happened.”

“But you hardly even texted me.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause-- ah! I was fucking mad at you, Mike!”

“Fair.” Mike eased his grip on Jay’s arm. “You should hate me forever.” 

“I don’t think that’s true, but I did try.” Jay shrugged and moved up onto the pillow, pressed his face to Mike’s. “I’ve been back here for weeks, you know, since the first of November.” 

“Wait-- Seriously? Here, in this house?”

“Yeah. I made myself wait until your birthday, to see if I could get over it. Like I could get over something I’ve felt since I was nineteen in two weeks. I don’t know, I just want you around all the fucking time. No amount of time spent in Hell is gonna change that, so.”

“What did it feel like?” Mike asked, because he couldn’t not know anymore, even if the answer destroyed him. “In that thing, down there.” 

“Just like waiting,” Jay said, frowning a little and looking at Mike’s collarbone. “Like the worst parts of waiting, when you don’t know when it’s going to end. But I did know you’d come get me. Whatever you were doing up in the real world, with the other half of me, it was like watching a movie that was playing in my-- I don’t know, heart? Mind? I guess I didn’t really have any of that with me, but you know what I mean. It was fucking painful to know that was happening and not be able to feel it, all the stuff I wanted so much, all that-- Closeness, and the things you said to me, like you thought I was some miracle suddenly. But I do like movies. So I had that, at least. And I know you couldn’t feel it, but your soul was trapped down there with me, too, wandering in the wastelands and seething and wanting to get to mine but not knowing how. I guess it’s always been that way, actually. Didn’t really need to go to Hell to feel that. Don’t know how I missed it for so long, up here.”

“I could feel it,” Mike said, realizing now that he had, all along. 

Jay looked up at him and shrugged. He’d clearly reached his limit of confessional conversation, was giving off a kind of panicked determination to change the subject. 

“I don’t even understand how any of it works,” Jay said, sitting up. His hair was a mess and his nipples got hard as soon as the comforter slipped down to his lap, a few streaks of leftover come smeared on his belly. “But who cares. I got stuff to make spaetzle.” 

“You-- What now?” Mike felt like he’d failed to understand some code.

“For dinner,” Jay said, pulling his knees up to his chest. “It’s like German pasta, this family recipe thing we do for special occasions. It’s really good.” 

“Your sisters aren’t coming over, are they?” Mike asked. 

Jay shoved Mike’s shoulder but also grinned like he had finally said the right thing when Jay was dangling over an emotional cliff and needing to be rescued. 

“No, they’re not,” Jay said, and he ripped the comforter off of Mike, exposing him to the increasingly chilly room. “Come clean up with me.” 

Mike followed him out of the room, thinking he meant he wanted help cleaning up the kitchen, even though Jay was only wearing his underwear. Jay walked across the hall to the bathroom and turned on the tap of the massive, stone-tiled bathtub that Mike had boggled at when he’d been in there earlier.

“This is a really fancy bathroom for a farmhouse,” Mike said. 

“They half-renovated it,” Jay said, rolling his eyes. “To sell it. You’ll see little pockets of modern shit in other rooms, too, it’s surreal. I don’t want to sell this place, though. Isn’t that fucked up? I hated this town as a kid.”

“I’ll buy it for you,” Mike said.

“Huh?”

“The house.” 

“Mike, you don’t have any money,” Jay said, grinning.

“Well. I’ll come up with a scheme--”

“My mom’s not gonna make me sell it, she really just wants me to live here.”

They stared at each other, and Mike wasn’t sure if he needed to say it out loud, but considering all the trouble he’d caused by not saying things out loud over the years, he decided it was better safe than sorry.

“I’ll live here with you,” he said. “In case that’s not obvious.” 

“Not permanently,” Jay said, looking down at the bathwater. “I mean, unless we end up wanting to.”

“Kinda like the VCR job,” Mike said, smiling uncertainly when Jay looked up at him. “You know? That was supposed to be real temporary, right, just a way to make some cash. But you were there, and I was there, so we stayed.” 

“I don’t miss that job,” Jay said, ducking his gaze away again. “But I do need to find a new one. God, the thought of looking for work in Rockton-- Maybe we can open a VCR repair shop here. No, like-- A video rental store. I always wanted to own one. We’d have DVDs, too, obviously, but it would be like, curated, rare stuff that you can’t just stream, and it would be cozy, like a place where you’d want to hang out. Maybe we could get a liquor license and serve beer to get people in the door, like it could be this combination of a pub where you talk about movies and a place where you have a membership and you can rent them--”

Jay looked up when he heard himself rambling. He wrinkled his nose at the look on Mike’s face, which was pure dumb lovestruck adoration. 

“Obviously I don’t have any money either,” Jay said. “So I don’t really know what I’m talking about. But Garrett is actually very immoral, interestingly. He blackmails people in L.A.-- I mean, people who deserve it. So maybe it is moral? Sort of? Anyway, he’s insane, you have no idea. He could help with financing something like this, is all I mean.”

“I missed you so much,” Mike said, because he felt like he would die if he didn’t say so.

“I know,” Jay said, flicking water at him. “C’mere, I think we can both fit.”

They did, with Jay leaning back against Mike’s chest. Mike felt a little self-conscious about the boner that was pressed to Jay’s back, but Jay didn’t seem to mind and seemed like he might fall asleep again when they were reclining there in the steaming bathwater together, both of them staring up at the narrow skylight on the indented ceiling overhead.

“This is such a weird house,” Mike said, trying to make sense of the dimensions. He couldn’t remember a skylight in the original bathroom. “It’s perfect for you,” he said, spreading his fingers wide on Jay’s chest, over his calm heartbeat. 

“For us,” Jay said, his head lolling on Mike’s chest, and Mike was certain then that Jay was half asleep, because that was the most delightfully corny thing he’d ever heard him say. 

He kissed Jay’s ear very softly, not wanting to jar him from this mood, and they stayed there until the heat faded from the water.

The kitchen in the house had always made Mike think of a witch’s kitchen, with a wood-burning brick stove built into the wall and a polished stone floor that was original to the house. Jay’s mother had never seemed witch-like at all to Mike, however. She was a now-retired bank teller who loved horses and had few other interests that could be described as passionate, the horses having taken up all that space. 

Jay was the only family member who qualified as potentially witchy, and he seemed more and more so as he ordered Mike around in the kitchen and narrated his spaetzle preparation, matching Mike beer for beer as the process unfolded. Jay had stocked up on booze and food in preparation for the oncoming snowstorm, which to Mike was also witch-like behavior. They were shutting themselves off from the outside world, at least for a short time, deliberately and with glee. Mike was more than ready to be Jay’s willing familiar, or loyal servant, or just his sex slave, or all three. 

“This is like a revelation,” Mike said after his first bite of the spaetzle. “My life is _changed_.”

“You’re so drunk,” Jay said, laughing in a way that revealed he was, too. They were both seated at barstools at the big, modern island that sat in the middle of the otherwise 1800s-looking witch kitchen. 

“I’m not drunk!” Mike said. “Well. I am, but that’s not why this is good. I mean, I’m not exaggerating. Holy shit. It’s like, orgasmic.” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jay said, giggly and blushing, clearly flattered. “I’m glad you like it. Who lives in the midwest all their life and hasn’t had spaetzle?”

“I’m from Chicago, Jay. You true midwesterners just don’t understand.”

Mike grinned when Jay flung a piece of spaetzle at him for that comment, having fully expected that response.

After eating they drunkenly crashed on the big sofa in the family room, curled up together on the side nearest the fireplace, which was also original to the house and currently burning some really good-smelling wood. Mike dozed with his head on Jay’s chest and thought about chopping firewood, and the snow that would start falling overnight while they slept. He’d have to get accustomed to living in the country, and running a video rental bar, and whatever else Jay wanted. It made him smile stupidly to even contemplate these things, because serving his witch-master Jay would be his life’s true work, he was sure.

Jay had the wall-mounted TV on and was flicking through the channels, every burst of content from a new channel half-waking Mike. 

“Stay up until the snow starts,” Jay said, tugging on Mike’s ear. “It’s good luck.”

“That’s witch talk,” Mike said, and Jay laughed so hard that Mike woke up enough to go to the kitchen for another beer. 

They did manage to stay awake until the snow started falling, but just barely, tucked into Jay’s bed and watching the window. As soon as a few flakes trickled down, Jay sighed triumphantly and the snow seemed to fall harder in answer to his approval, or maybe Mike was just trashed and in love with the idea of his boyfriend being a powerful witch. He was spooned up behind Jay and had his face pressed to Jay’s shoulder, his legs tucked in tight behind Jay’s. 

“Do you remember the first thing you ever said to me?” Jay asked, his voice slurry from beers and sleepiness. 

“Jay, I presume,” Mike said, because of course he remembered.

“No, no, online, on the collector’s forum.”

Mike frowned and tried to remember. They’d mostly tried to impress each other with obscure trivia on there, a couple of posturing dorks.

“Tell me,” Mike said, giving Jay’s chest a squeeze.

“You said ‘there is only one perfect movie,’ because I’d called something that wasn’t _Empire Strikes Back_ perfect. And it made me fucking angry, because of course the thing I was talking about, I don’t even remember what it was, but-- Of course it wasn’t perfect, or at least not that close to perfect. And it made me angry because I’d been reading your comments on the forum, and liking them, and that you thought something was perfect annoyed me. I didn’t know why, but I think it was because I wanted to someday be the one thing considered perfect by someone who knew what the fuck they were talking about, even if they weren’t objectively right.” 

“You’re an eloquent drunk, Jay,” Mike said, nosing at his neck.

“Oh, fucking forget it--”

“No, I’m serious. I love that. Love you. You’ve always been my only perfect thing.” 

Mike squeezed Jay tight enough to communicate that he meant this and then fell asleep.

When they woke up the snow was still coming down, and by some witch magic done in that kitchen, via spaetzle, they were not hungover. They had sex, fell asleep again, and postponed the planning of the rest of their lives until a little bit later.

By Thanksgiving they still had no real plans, except that Mike was still collecting paychecks from Lightning Fast, since Rich was clocking in for him daily, and Jay still had the money he’d saved while working in L.A., plus Garrett’s promises to ‘take care of him’ with dirty blackmail money, as if Garrett considered himself some kind of mafia don, which, knowing him, he probably did. Mike wasn’t too worried about it yet, since they lived at the farmhouse rent free and were also the happiest they’d ever been. Mike even went jogging with Jay two whole times in the weeks between moving in there and flying down to Jay’s mother’s retirement village for Thanksgiving. 

Just sitting next to Jay on a plane gave Mike a childlike thrill. Being alone together in the house was comforting, something they’d both needed badly, but going through airport security and flying across the country seemed to prove it wasn’t just a shared fantasy, that they could move through the real world together, too. 

Mike rubbed Jay’s arm while staring out the plane window at the fat clouds sailing past. He wondered what the fuck heaven was like, if it even existed. He’d never asked Rich about it, and thought of texting him when they landed, but ultimately didn’t bother. He would get some vague non-answer about alien civilizations or what the fuck ever anyway, and he was basically already there, for his own version, in the meantime.

The holiday with Jay’s family was good. Mike won the trivia game they played with Jay’s sisters and their husbands, Jay touched Mike’s leg twice under the table during the main event meal, and they were just close enough to the coast that they could smell the ocean on the air when they walked around Jay’s mother’s retirement community, laughing at the Christmas decorations that the elderly residents had already put out in their yards. Human-sized nutcrackers were mysteriously popular with this demographic.

They flew home the day after Thanksgiving. The airports were a nightmare to navigate on both ends, and by the time they landed in Milwaukee Jay was wiped out. Mike offered to do the drive to Rockton, though he was tired, too. He would never not get off on taking care of Jay, for the rest of their lives, and sitting in post-Thanksgiving traffic from hell was the least he could do while Jay slept peacefully in the passenger seat.

At least it seemed peaceful until they were nearly back at the farmhouse, when Jay started making pitiful little noises under his breath, his shoulders twitching. Mike left him alone at first, because usually when one of them had a nightmare the reaction was much more violent, and the one who did the comforting would have to duck a few flying fists before pulling the other into his arms and calming him down. 

Jay made a more distressed noise as they were pulling up to the house, and his knee jerked up to knock into the dashboard, hard enough enough to make Mike wince. 

“Hey, hey,” Mike said, reaching over to squeeze Jay’s thigh as he steered the car into their usual parking spot with his other hand. The farmhouse had no garage, and the car would be in a snowdrift by morning if the forecast was accurate. Mike didn’t give a shit; they had nowhere to go for the time being. He rubbed Jay’s thigh and gave him a sympathetic look when he woke with a gasp. “It’s okay,” Mike said, flinging his seatbelt off so he could put his arm around Jay’s shaking shoulders. “Okay, you’re all right, you’re good, we’re home now.” 

Jay blinked over at Mike and exhaled, reality seeming to settle over him. Mike kissed Jay’s cheeks and hugged him closer. Jay had said the same thing to Mike at least a couple of times over the past few weeks, when Mike woke up from a bad one in their bed: _you’re okay, it’s all right, you’re home with me now_.

“They want to come here for Christmas,” Jay said when they were in the house, Mike putting logs on the fire and Jay sitting under a blanket on the sofa, drinking coffee. 

“They?” Mike said, giving Jay a look of trepidation.

“My family!” Jay said, beaming. “Not angels or demons or anything.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” 

Jay laughed and Mike crawled into his lap, for as much as he could fit there, which was really just his head and shoulders, one arm stretched across Jay’s thighs. Jay ran his fingers through Mike’s hair and talked about chopping down a Christmas tree in the woods, something he’d always wanted to do apparently, and it was like no reality had ever existed except what they’d always wanted and how they were going to make it come true. 

Mike would always believe they lived in a magic house, which even Rich scoffed at when he visited. Mike didn’t care about anybody’s scoffing, once-immortal or not. He was the one who lived there, and it was like what couldn’t really be measured by the wall clock in their bedroom that by then had its battery replaced and was ticking away in tune with central standard time. Sometimes a mundane thing could mean a lot, to a few people who relied on it. 

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this will correct itself by the time I post this note or later but as of right now the header says:
> 
> "Published: 2020-01-01 Completed: 2019-12-31"
> 
> WHICH I THINK IS NEAT.
> 
> Anyway, many thanks to all who read this far. It's hard to pick a theme song for this one but maybe:
> 
> [Two Slow Dancers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUfkfJfsKrc)
> 
> Happy new year friends


End file.
